The Broken Universe (24 page)

John shook his head at the bustle around him. And yet they were all of a like mind. How could it be different? Most of them were the same person and had the same synapses, the same mores. Of course they would work well together.

It
was
a madhouse, but they were getting things done.

He glanced at Grace, who looked pensive.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s all coming together.”

“Gesalex is going to respond,” she said. “The question is how soon.”

“We can move somewhere else…”

“No,” Grace said. “Everyone is here. The notaries are coming here. The quarry site is too small and not safe for a large group. People would be tripping over the cords.”

“I guess we’ll just have to be quick,” John said.

“He could be here any time.”

“Maybe we need weapons,” John said. He knew that Casey had her pistol. She always carried it now. Did anyone else have weapons?

He waved over Henry Low and said, “See who’s carrying weapons and come up with an idea to get some more.”

“We should also post a guard,” Grace said. “Park the minibuses across the entrance to the parking lot. That should keep them from driving right into our front office.”

John assigned the task to John Champ.

“First notary is here,” someone shouted.

“I got this,” Grace said. She rubbed her face, seemed to grab ahold of herself, and walked forward, suddenly the CEO of a company. “Hi, I’m Grace Shisler, thanks for coming on short notice.”

She led the notary—who seemed a little dazed by all the frenetic activity—to a table. Grace started calling the Alarian women over one by one alphabetically.

“Aduswintha!” Grace called. “Please come forward.”

It was a madhouse. But John felt like they were actually doing something. Grace’s plan was gutsy, off the charts, out of the box. But if they pulled it off, everyone won, except for Gesalex.

John glanced at Grace, who was discussing something with the notary. The notary finally seemed to accept Grace’s explanation, took Aduswintha’s identification card, and then stamped the certificate. She handed the certificate to Grace.

Grace saw John watching and mouthed the words, “One percent.”

John remained at the center of the chaos, coordinating action, making sure there was enough breakfast, finding tables for the notaries to do their work. The Alarians did not complain at the slightest inconvenience, and cheerfully pitched in with whatever task he assigned them.

“Here’s a shopping list for the grocery store,” he said to one. “Go with the Henry there and take two others. Here’s cash.” He pulled two hundred dollars from his wallet.

“Make sure the guards on the roof all have what they need,” he said. “Coffee, soda, bathroom breaks.”

When a dozen of the Alarian women had had their papers notarized, John had one of the other Johns drive them to the quarry. Until they knew the ramifications of what they’d done, the women would stay in 7601, guests of John Ten. He and Clotilde had already transferred over and were searching for a cheap hotel, a mansion, anything that they could rent for all fifty-four women.

Luckily funds were not a problem. Pinball Wizards had been placing cash and gold reserves in each settled universe, in case of emergencies. They’d have to transfer more gold to 7601 soon to cover some costs, but for the moment, they had enough to rent a location and keep the women fed. He made a mark on the transfer ledger to transfer ten thousand grams of gold to 7601. John handed the ledger to John Quayle, who was headed to the quarry office. The ledger was their method of tracking material goods transfers. A computer system—a networked computer system!—would have made the process easier. Though how they would network across universes, he didn’t know. In any case, John Ten would need a constant stream of cash to care for his fifty-four guests.

“What are we going to do with fifty-four women?” John muttered to himself.

“Nothing,” one of them said—Englavira. She was the oldest of those who had left the night before. Clotilde said a dozen more had stayed, refusing to go or not even being asked to leave. “You just give us a start, and we take it from there.”

“But all by yourselves? In a new universe?” John said. “We can help you.”

“We’ll take some help,” Englavira said with a faint smile. “But we’ve spent our lives in bondage, kept as chattel for breeding purposes, or, in the case of those not ‘pure’ enough, as slave labor.”

“Some of you, Clotilde and yourself,” he said, “seem very liberated for living in the society that you did.”

Englavira smiled. She was only a few centimeters shorter than John, almost a platinum blonde, broadly shouldered, but voluptuous.

“They liked to think they had us cloistered,” she said. “But you can’t live fifty years in a place and not be influenced by it. We had a cache of books, magazines, and papers. We taught the younger ones. Clotilde is our best student, and I understand exactly why she ran to you when she heard the offer. We have been slowly liberating ourselves from Alarian culture for years.”

“How much do you know about how they got here?” John asked.

“We hear rumors and stories,” she said. “In them, Visgrath is a hero, who is maligned and unjustly sent away.”

John snorted.

“Exactly,” she said. “A hundred years ago, the Alarians—then only in a single universe—managed to obtain transfer technology. More than likely, they stole it from some poor traveler who didn’t know what they were getting into.”

“What universe?”

Englavira shrugged. “I have no idea.” She shrugged again, looking away. “You believe because it’s all you know, but it’s all myth and ancient history. And I make it seem like we were slaves. But we were pampered too. Mothers of monsters. Sucklers of evil.” Her laughter was cold. “I am not innocent. Neither is Clotilde. Look who her father was.” She made a fist and seemed to throw empty air at the ground. “Good riddance to him.” She looked embarrassed at her outburst.

“What was the myth?” John asked after a moment.

“Visgrath was Teiwaz’s son, he claimed. He was the liberator,” she explained. “He wanted to use the technology to enslave the multiverse. And he did it, he used nuclear weapons on a universe to subjugate them. Purifying fire. And it worked. He conquered entire universes. How can you fight an enemy that can appear anywhere with nuclear warheads?”

“Yes, how?” John Prime said. He had neared the two as they talked. In fact, all the Alarian women nearby were listening to Englavira’s story.

“You can’t, if you don’t have the technology,” Englavira said. “Two, three universes. Then five were vanquished. Not Alarian worlds. Worlds like this or with other histories. Not like ours. But it couldn’t be ignored. People notice when universes are broken, destroyed, nuked.”

“Who noticed?” John asked.

“The Vig noticed,” Englavira said.

John and Prime shared a glance. It was the same word that Corrundrum used for some omnipotent patrolling force.

“What or who is the Vig?” John asked.

“They police the multiverse,” she said. “They allow certain universes to use the technology in exchange for commerce rights, and stop others. And by stop, I mean they destroy cultures that violate their rules.”

“Destroy?” John said.

“Yes, what they did to the Alarian world. Nuked it to oblivion, or so the story goes. But not before Visgrath was marooned here. His allies turned on him—can you blame them?—and exiled him to this universe—what he called the Prison.”

“How did he know the home world was destroyed if he was exiled?”

“The Vig had already destroyed our conquered universes,” Englavira said. “Cauterized the wound. It was only a matter of time. And when no rescue came, no punishment, no travelers at all, Visgrath knew that the home world was destroyed.”

“Where did Charboric go then?”

Englavira shrugged.

Prime said, “He had a safe haven universe. Somewhere he had scouted out and hadn’t told anyone else about. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Yes,” John said. But his mind wasn’t on Charboric. He was thinking about what the Vig had done to the Alarians when they found out they had transfer technology. But there was a difference between conquering universes and using the technology to arbitrage goods. What would the Vig do if they found the Pinball Wizards? Would they cauterize the ten settled universes?

“Englavira?”

They turned as Grace called her name.

“Yes?”

“We’re ready for you,” she said, nodding toward the notary.

Englavira nodded. “I hope I’ve helped you understand our broken universe,” she said to John.

“Yes, you did, thank you.”

*   *   *

John Ten and Clotilde returned by the time the third group of Alarian women had been bussed over to the quarry site.

“We found housing for all of us,” Clotilde said. “It’s perfect.”

“Camp Bobby Kavanagh,” John Ten said. “Old Boy Scout campground. Hasn’t been used in years. But safe, isolated, and cheap.”

“We can live in a barracks,” Clotilde said. “As long as no one is there to watch us all the time.”

“We can probably buy it,” John Ten said.

One of the Henrys suddenly called down from the roof through the small access hatch.

“Company!” he said. “Two black SUVs on the side of the road. Watching.”

“Okay,” John cried. “We load up the rest right now! Let’s get these women out of here!”

“Hold on,” Grace said. “We need two more.”

“Grab the two,” John said. “The rest of the women can get in the minibus.”

“Here they come!” the Henry on the roof cried. “Eight of ’em. Looks like one of them is Gesalex.”

“Oh, no,” Clotilde said. Grace grabbed her shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.”

Casey appeared from the kitchen with her purse. In it was her gun, John knew. Their eyes met and he shook his head imperceptibly. She nodded, knowing to keep the gun from sight unless needed.

“Are they armed?” John cried.

“Not in the open!”

“Let’s meet them in the lobby,” Grace said. “Load the minibuses from the loading dock.”

John started for the lobby, Grace falling in at his side.

“Shouldn’t you be getting the last two certificates?” John asked.

She startled, then smiled. “Oh, yeah. I guess that’s the play, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” John said. He felt calm at the coming confrontation.

“I’m coming,” Clotilde said, following him.

“You don’t have to,” John said.

“I do.”

He, Casey, Clotilde, and John Ten entered the lobby, stood in front of the double doors, and waited.

Clotilde’s face was pale, her chin trembling. John watched John Ten take her hand and she smiled at him.

The eight appeared around the corner. They were dressed in dark suits; they didn’t appear armed. But any of them could have weapons strapped under their jackets. Gesalex was in the middle.

The first goon opened the door savagely.

“Stop!” John shouted. “Stop right there, you bastards. You are not allowed to enter these premises.”

Gesalex motioned the two men in front aside.

“You have something of mine, Wilson!” he cried.

“And what would that be?” John replied.

“The precious matrons of our society,” Gesalex replied. “Return them.”

John smiled. “Oh, it’s okay to shoot, kidnap, and torture us, but you draw the line at our liberating your women?”

“Return them now.”

“We’re not going back,” Clotilde said softly.

“Silence!” Gesalex cried.

Clotilde cringed, then straightened her back. “We’re not going back,” she said, louder.

“You have no say in the matter.”

“Oh, really?” John said. “Is slavery suddenly legal here?”

“The laws of this place mean nothing. You should know that.”

“Then you can explain that to the police when they get here,” John said.

“We will explain,” Gesalex said, “that you kidnapped fifty helpless women against their will.”

The last minibus of women rumbled by behind the Alarians. Gesalex didn’t turn, but if he had he would have seen the pale faces of fifteen women staring at him.

“What women?” John said. “They’re in another universe now.”

“What?” Gesalex cried. “What have you done?”

He motioned to two of his men to go forward. They advanced, but after they’d taken a step, Casey smoothly drew her gun and fired a single round into the wall above the door.

“No,” she said. “You may not enter the premises.”

“This will not … stand!” Gesalex cried.

The doors opened and Grace appeared. In her hand was a stack of paper, signed and notarized stock certificates of Grauptham House, Incorporated. She smiled at John.

“Mr. Gesalex,” she said. “I now own fifty-three percent of Grauptham House, and you’re fired.”

CHAPTER
19

Maybe it was that statement from Grace or perhaps the wail of sirens in the distance, but Gesalex stared at them for a moment, his face a pale, stricken slab of flesh, and then he turned and ran. His entourage followed.

The sound of the gunshot still echoed in John’s brain, but his heart had begun to beat again.

“Fifty-three percent?” he asked.

“Yeah, fifty-three,” Grace said. “The price of that brick is coming out of your commission check, Casey.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“What do we do now?” John asked. “I mean, we own one of the largest companies in this universe. What do we do now?”

“In the multiverse,” John Ten said.

“They’re going somewhere,” Casey said. “In a hurry.”

Grace shrugged. “Meh, we’ll deal with that after the Alarians are settled in. Though I should call our lawyers. They probably need to know about this.”

“You think?” John asked. “And once the Alarian women are settled into 7601?”

Grace grinned. “We scrub that company clean of any sign of those bastards.”

*   *   *

Monday found them in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, explaining their case to a judge. No Alarians were present. The judge ordered a freeze of all Grauptham House assets and the start of meetings between the major shareholders and the current management of the company.

With the writ in hand and three federal marshals, they invaded the corporate office buildings in downtown Pittsburgh. They took the high-rise elevator to the top floor and barged into Gesalex’s office. The Alarian stared at them for a moment, drew a gun, and shot himself in the temple.