Oracle (30 page)

"That's got to be it,” he muttered.

He waited a minute, then another, to see if the Blue Devil with the tray emerged from the room that was being guarded, but it didn't appear. Of course, he reasoned, it could simply have turned the tray over to one of the guards and left by another route. There were a number of corridors leading off to both the right and the left, and there was no way he could reconstruct what had happened. It was even possible that these Blue Devils were guarding something other than the Oracle, and that the one he had followed was still carrying her food to her, but he doubted it. Besides, if that was the case, he was going to have to take all five guards out before he could continue his quest ... but they hadn't guarded anything else in this crazily-constructed house, not even their communication center, and it seemed likely that nothing but the Oracle could command so much attention from armed guards.

The Injun realized, with an enormous surge of eagerness, that it was time to put his strategy to the test.

He withdrew his sonic pistol and deactivated the safety. Then, with his free hand, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the alphanella seeds that he had ordered Broussard to confiscate back in Quichancha, carefully placed them between his teeth, and bit down, hard.

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"They are within the compound,” announced the Oracle, peering sightlessly off into space.

"Both of them?” asked the Iceman.

"Yes.” She turned to him and smiled. “Everything is coming to fruition."

"I take it that I'm part of the plan?"

"In some eventualities, you are. In others you are not."

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

She looked amused. “In none of the futures I can see do I answer that question."

He pulled out a small cigar. “Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Yes, I do."

"Tough,” he said, lighting it.

"There,” she said, still amused. “You've stood up to me. Do you feel better now, Iceman?"

"Not especially."

"But you do not fear me?"

"Not especially."

"You should, you know."

The Iceman shrugged. “Perhaps."

"Do you know that in all my life, there is only one man I have ever been afraid of?"

"Oh? Who was that?"

"You."

"I'm flattered."

"That was a long time ago,” said the Oracle. “I see you now and I feel no fear.” She stared at him, her eyes finally focused in the present. “My only reaction to you is contempt."

"Not hatred?” he asked.

She shook her head. “One must feel some respect to feel hatred, if not respect for the person, then at least respect for the harm he can cause."

"And you consider me harmless?"

"Yes.” She paused, then spoke again. “Even with the explosives you have hidden inside your artificial leg, I consider you harmless."

"You know about them?"

"I know everything,” she replied. “Am I not the Oracle?"

"You're an Oracle imprisoned in a force field,” said the Iceman. “How can you stop me if I decide to detonate the explosives right now?"

"You are an old man, Iceman, and your heart has undergone many strains during your life. If you try to detonate the explosives, you will feel a searing pain in your chest, your heart will burst, and you will die.” She stared intently at him. “Already it beats more rapidly, already it pumps your blood at a dangerous rate. In a million times a million futures, you will not even be aware of it. But,” she added, stepping two paces to her right, “if I move here, there exists a future in which you feel a warning pain, does there not?"

The Iceman felt a sharp pain in his chest. Breathing suddenly became difficult, and he experienced an overwhelming sensation of pressure. He tried to conceal his reaction, but was unable to.

"You see?” she said with a satisfied smile. “There is one future, among the billions in which you detonate the explosives successfully, in which your pain does not cease. It become unbearable, and in that future, just before you die, you realize that what I have told you is the truth."

The pain finally began subsiding, and the color returned to the Iceman's face. He took a deep breath, and leaned against the door for support.

"Can I ask you a question?” he said after a moment.

"That is what the Oracle does: She answers questions."

"How the hell have they managed to keep you locked up here? Why hasn't your jailor suffered a heart attack or a stroke at the proper moment?"

"They have chosen my keepers very carefully,” she answered. “In no future that I have been able to envision have any of them suffered from any pain or disease to the extent that it would allow me my freedom."

"How do they feed you?” asked the Iceman. “Surely they have to dampen at least a portion of the field for that."

"A tiny portion,” she replied. “You shall see in just a moment.” She raised her voice. “You may enter."

A Blue Devil bearing a tray of food walked through the doorway, set it down on the floor right next to the force field, and then exited. A moment later a musical note sounded on the intercom system, and Penelope backed up against a wall, as far from the tray as possible. There was a sound of static as a portion of the field, no more than a foot square, dampened at floor level, and she walked forward, knelt down, reached for the tray very gingerly, and carefully pulled it to her. The moment it was across the dividing line on the floor, there was more static and a pre-recorded Blue Devil voice informed them that the field was once again impregnable.

She carried the tray to a table and set it down there.

"You see?” she asked.

"And you haven't had a living thing on your side of the field for how many years?"

"Since the Mock Turtle's unhappy demise."

"You've had no human contact in all that time?"

"I've had no contact of any kind.” She paused. “Well, that's not entirely true. I had a doll once, but it fell apart four years ago."

The Iceman tried to picture an 18-year-old Oracle playing with a doll, and couldn't. But he had no difficulty envisioning a lonely 18-year-old Penelope Bailey hugging the doll to her for comfort.

"I still feel sorry for you, Penelope,” he said. “It's not your fault you were blessed or cursed with this ability, and it's not your fault that the Democracy didn't know how to handle you, and it's probably not even your fault that the Blue Devils have confined you here for all these years—but you are what you are, and you can't be allowed out of here. If you can't be killed, you have to be contained."

"Dream your dreams of heroism, Iceman,” she replied. “What harm can they do?"

Suddenly she turned and faced the wall behind her, and stood perfectly rigid for a moment. Then she turned back to him.

"Who were you helping that time?” asked the Iceman.

"No one you know,” she replied. “Tonight is all but resolved. I have other concerns to look after."

Her placidity vanished, to be replaced by a contemptuous frown.

"Fool!” she said. “Does he think that will affect my ability to deal with him?"

"What are you talking about?” asked the Iceman.

"Jimmy Two Feathers."

"Where is he?"

"He approaches, and he thinks to befuddle me by befuddling himself.” She turned to the Iceman. “His mind is gone—but I do not read minds. I see futures."

"He bit into a seed?” asked the Iceman.

"As if it matters."

"It matters,” said the Iceman. “If he doesn't know what he's going to do next—"

"I will know!” snapped the Oracle.

"I thought you saw a myriad of futures, and manipulated things to achieve the one you wanted. How can you manipulate a man who currently has the intelligence of an insect?"

"That's why you are here, Iceman,” she said.

"Me?"

"If I can't stop him, you will."

"You've got a healthy imagination, Penelope."

"I do not imagine things, Iceman,” replied the Oracle. “I foresee them."

"Well, you've foreseen this one wrong,” said the Iceman. “If he can kill you, I won't lift a finger to stop him."

"You will do what you are destined to do."

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The Iceman was about to reply when the door opened and the Injun, wild-eyed and disheveled, burst into the room. He held a sonic pistol in one hand and a knife dripping with blood in the other.

"Who are you?” he demanded of the Iceman in a strained, hollow voice.

"I'm a friend,” replied the Iceman.

The Injun stared at him, uncomprehending.

"We both work for 32,” continued the Iceman.

"That bastard!” screamed the Injun. “First I kill her, then him!"

"Keep your voice down."

The Injun giggled. “Why? I killed all the Blue Devils out in the hall."

The Iceman glanced at the Oracle, who was looking at the Injun with an amused smile on her face.

You're not worried, he thought. He's standing right in front of you, out of his goddamned mind and planning to kill you, and you think it's funny. He's not the one.

The Injun turned to face the Oracle.

"What are you grinning about, lady?” he mumbled. “You think I'm kidding?"

"No, Jimmy Two Feathers,” she replied serenely. “I know you're not kidding."

He raised his pistol and sighted it between her eyes, then lowered it. “I'm thirsty,” he announced.

"There's water on the main level,” said the Oracle.

"There's water on the table right next to you,” said the Injun.

He began approaching her.

"Don't!” shouted the Iceman, but it was too late.

The Injun hit the force field, shrieked once, and bounced back off of it like a rubber ball. He pounded into the wall, spun off it, and fell in a crumpled heap at the Iceman's feet.

The Iceman knelt down next to him and felt for a pulse. It was still racing at almost twice the normal rate.

"What was that all about?” asked the Iceman, looking up at the Oracle.

"I don't understand you,” she replied.

"Why did you let him get all the way to this room and kill those Blue Devils, only to wind up like this?"

"They were just Blue Devils,” she said with an unconcerned shrug.

"I thought you needed him to get you out of here,” persisted the Iceman.

"I was mistaken."

Too easy, Penelope. You knew he'd come in here, and you knew he couldn't kill you. This is still going according to plan—but what the hell kind of a plan requires a madman to be lying unconscious at my feet?

"You look confused, Iceman,” she said, and again he could see amusement, and something more—condescension—in her pale blue eyes.

"I am,” he admitted. “But I'll figure it out."

"If you live long enough."

"The same might be said for you,” he retorted.

She smiled. “I like living, Iceman. I just might live forever."

"I have no objection,” said the Iceman. “As long as you stay on your side of the force field."

She stared at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “I wonder..."

"What do you wonder?"

"I was born in the Democracy, and you on the Inner Frontier. I am 22 years old, and you are in your sixties. I know nothing of your past, and you know nothing of my future. We have nothing in common except our enmity. The odds of two people like ourselves meeting even once during our lifetimes are almost incalculable.” She paused. “Why should our lives have become so interconnected, I wonder?"

"I don't know,” admitted the Iceman.

"It is curious, is it not?” she mused.

"I'd have been just as happy never to know you existed."

"Happiness is not for you and me, Iceman,” she replied. “And as for your never knowing I existed, soon more people than you can imagine shall know it."

"Not if I can help it."

"Ah, but you can't,” she said with another tranquil smile. “All you can do is stand here helplessly and await what must happen next."

He offered no reply, and they stared at each other in silence.

"Step aside, Iceman,” she said at last. “You're blocking the door."

He turned and saw Praed Tropo, weaponless, standing in the doorway. Then the Blue Devil was pushed into the room, and Chandler walked in right behind him, a small pistol pressed against its back.

"Mendoza!” exclaimed Chandler, surprised. “What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'll explain in a minute,” said the Iceman. “Are there any Blue Devils after you?"

Chandler shook his head. “There are corpses all over the place. Was that your doing?"

"His,” said the Iceman, indicating the still-unconscious body of the Injun.

"Who's he?"

"Jimmy Two Feathers."

Chandler frowned. “The Injun? Who sent him here?"

"He was hired to kill the Oracle."

"Well, it doesn't look like he's going to be much competition.” He shoved Praed Tropo a few feet ahead of him, then commanded the door to close.

"Why is he here?” asked the Iceman, gesturing toward the Blue Devil.

"He was examining the bodies when I showed up on this level,” answered Chandler. “I figured I might need a shield, so I suggested that he accompany me.” He turned to the Oracle. “Is she who you thought she'd be?"

"She's Penelope Bailey, yes,” answered the Iceman.

"What's that line on the floor—a force field?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I knew they were keeping her prisoner,” answered Chandler. “I didn't know how until just now—from what they tell me, force fields are still beyond our technology—but nobody seems to want to cross that line.” He paused. “Is that what happened to the Injun?"

The Iceman nodded. “He's hopped up on alphanella seeds, and he walked right into it."

"Well, he cleared a path for me right to the door,” said Chandler.

"You'd have managed if you'd had to."

"I doubt it,” said Chandler. “I don't know what direction he approached them from, but the way I came, I'd have been a sitting duck.” He paused. “You still haven't told me why you're here."

"New orders,” said the Iceman.

"Oh?"

"Can you kill her?"