The Devil's Eye (22 page)

I broke the circuit and called Peifer. "Rob, they took Alex."

"Can you do a story? Put some pressure on Wexler?"

"I don't know."

"I know."

"Maybe." I didn't know where to go from there. "Rob, I need to get out to the asteroid. Can you make me part of a news team or something? And we both go? If we did that, I could probably get through. And you might get your story."

"There's no rift, Rob. At least, I don't think there is."

"I don't know. Alex thought we'd find out if we could get to the asteroid."

"So can you help, Rob?"

I moved into a hotel in the center of the city. And I sat in it, watching newscasts, watching talk shows, and I saw nothing about Alex. Heard no mention of him. There were reports, though, of another

encounter with the Mutes. The administration announced that plans were going ahead to increase "substantially" the size of the fleet. And work had begun on another group of shelters. Administration officials appeared everywhere and were reassuring.
"We're protected by a cosmic ocean,"
one of them said.
"The Mutes are coming out here because they think we're an easy target. We're going to fix that." "Then why,"
asked an interviewer,
"do we need all those shelters?" "We're sending a message,"
he said.
"If they come here, we'll stand our ground and go to all-out war if need be. Once they see that, once they see we aren't going to just sit here and let them run us off, we're confident they'll understand that this Administrator is not going to tolerate recurring attacks."

I don't usually drink alone, but I had a couple that night, in my room, while I wondered what was happening to Alex, where he was, whether they were trying to press him to find out where
I
was. Eventually Peifer called.
"Sorry, kid,"
he said.
"But it's no go."
"Which part of it?"

"Rob- "

"Okay."

"And- ?"

"Rob, he'd have called me."

"Not a peep."

"What?"
"All right, look: I'll keep checking. If you hear from him, let me know."
He looked tired.
"Do you need a place to stay? We've got a spare room."

"No. Thanks."

"I don't know. Get your story, I guess."

"I'm going to the asteroid. And find out what this is about."

Maybe Peifer had something. My father always said, if you're serious about getting somewhere, take a taxi. There was, of course, no way I could ride a taxi to a destination thirty-three light-years out. But I might be able to use one to get to the space station. Okay. Cabs will take you up to a couple of kilometers, but they aren't designed for high-altitude flights, let alone one that that would run out of the atmosphere altogether. But it was an option. I'd have to wait until the sun went down. Most people would think that, if you went up in the daytime, up to orbital altitudes, you'd freeze. But in fact, the sun would turn the taxi into an oven. So I waited until late afternoon. Then I went over to Central Mall and grabbed a sandwich and a fruit drink. And some dessert. Wasn't sure when I'd eat again. Afterward, I stopped by a general supply shop and got some tape. I went shopping for a plastene jacket and settled on one that looked almost airtight. It wasn't something I'd want to wear in public, particularly, garish green with a salacious dragon on the back. But it was exactly what I needed. Next stop was home furnishings. I browsed among the window curtains and bought a tieback, a soft strip of blue-green fabric that would have been perfect for my living room. I carried the jacket and the tape and the tieback to the roof and picked out my cab, a late-model Karaka that looked sturdy and well maintained. It waited patiently for me, and I climbed in. "Taxi," I said, "let's go fill up. I'm going to ask you to take me to Quahalla. And bring me back." Quahalla was halfway across the continent.
"I have adequate fuel, ma'am,"
she said. "I get nervous about long trips. Humor me. Let's fill up anyhow. I'll be much more comfortable."

It takes next to no fuel to keep the antigrav unit running. The jets, of course, were another matter. So the plan was to leave them off. What I needed was to get to the right altitude and stay there. I wouldn't be able to go anywhere once I'd arrived. But that was okay.

"I'm still deciding. I have several errands to run."
"Very good."
We pulled into a depot and filled the tank. The antigrav unit and the jets used the same fuel. I'd have liked to fill two or three extra tanks and put them in the cab, but I'd have no way of getting the fuel into the system. When we'd finished, we rode over to Kreitzel's Sea Sports and picked up an oxygen tank and a mask. Next I needed two blankets. When everything was on board, I asked the AI whether the taxi was safe at higher altitudes.
"Absolutely,"
she answered. "No leaks?"

There are rules everywhere about how high skimmers can go. In most places the limit's about three klicks. Although they are by law restricted to low altitudes, they're nevertheless equipped with a life-support system. Any piece of equipment with an antigrav unit can go pretty high if something unforeseen happens, like a drunk, so an air supply was standard. It, plus the tank, would give me roughly six hours, but if I didn't get rescued long before that, I would be in deep trouble. I connected the mask to the oxygen tank and tied everything down so it wouldn't float around in the cabin when we lost gravity. I put one of the blankets on top of the tank and tucked it in so the tank wasn't visible. Then I put tape around doors and windows and anywhere else I could find where air might escape. When I'd finished, I told the AI to take us up. We lifted off, but the taxi immediately started asking questions. It was designed to refuse foolish instructions in any case, so I disconnected the AI and took over manual control. That's illegal, too, of course, barring an emergency. I suspected it had automatically sent out a signal to law enforcement, but I didn't see anybody in the area. We rose gradually out of the traffic streams and headed for the clouds. I took it easy, in order to conserve fuel. I was going up to thirty-one thousand kilometers, the altitude of the space station. Once I reached it, I would need as much as was left to keep me up there. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon when a red light began blinking. The radio burped and came to life.
"You in the taxi: Please answer up. Push the black button to the right of the meter to reply."

"Hello," I said. I tried to sound panicky. "It keeps going up."

"Don't know. It won't talk to me. It just keeps going up."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. The AI isn't saying anything."

"Yes."

He gave me detailed instructions. I reported back, step by step, that I was following everything he told me to do. "It still won't work."

"No," I said.
"All right."
The voice was male. It was calm. Reassuring. Everything would be okay.
"Please take control of the taxi in the following manner-"
I could have shut the radio down, but that might have given the game away. So I listened while he gave instructions, warned me against the hazards of high altitudes, and assured me that Sky Traffic Operations knew of the problem and was doing everything necessary to return me safely to the ground. "I can't hear you," I said. "The radio's shut off."

"Taxi, can you hear me now?"
I almost said
Negative
. Instead: "Are you still there? I can't hear a thing." I was passing through white cumulus clouds. Minutes later I got another call:
"You in the taxi, this is Traffic Control. Do you need assistance? What is happening?"

"I don't know. It just keeps going up." I wanted to sound scared, and I guess the truth is that it didn't take much effort.
"All right."
It was a male voice again.
"Don't be frightened. We'll get you down."
"This is the first time anything like this has happened to me."

He was talking about the AI. "No, sir," I said. "She just stopped talking. I don't know what happened."
"Okay. Help is on the way. Meantime, let's try something."
He gave me instructions on how to maneuver the taxi, how to get it under control. "No," I said. "I've never operated one of these things. I'm afraid I'll kill myself."

I could see them coming. Lots of blinking lights a few klicks behind me. The operator kept talking to me, trying to reassure me. I was above the clouds by then, picking up speed as antigrav units tend to do when they get higher and the air gets thinner. It was all I could do not to pour the juice to it, to get out of there before they arrived. But I didn't dare. I couldn't afford to use the extra fuel. I sat tight and eventually the patrol vehicle pulled alongside. There were two officers in it. One waved. Relax. Take it easy. Then her voice came over the radio:
"Miss? Are you okay?"
"So far."

"How do you mean?"

"Let's try the controls first. Have you popped the panel?"
She was talking about the controls, which rotate out when you go to manual. "What do you mean by 'popped'?"

"Let it go. Look, here's what I want you to do."
She gave me the same instructions the earlier guy had. One step at a time.
"Withdraw the yoke."
"I can't," I said.

I was thinking if they told me one more time to relax, I would scream. "It won't come loose. It's stuck." We continued like that for another minute or so. Then she sighed.
"Okay. Look, I want to get you out of there before we get any higher."

"Good. I'm for-"

"Outside the door?"

"Listen, I'm not going to open anything up here. That's crazy."

That was good news. "I'm not opening up. Please find another way."
"There
is
no other way."
"No. I'm sorry." I found it easy to show them some hysteria. "I can't do it." They tried anyhow. The woman was gutsy. They got above me and matched my rate of ascent. They dropped a cable, and she climbed down on it. Right from the start she was getting blown all over the sky. Then she was outside, pounding on the door. I put on my best look of sheer terror and sat frozen in my seat. Her partner, a guy with a voice like a tractor engine, told me how I should grab hold of the chair arm. Hang on to the chair arm and don't let go, and simultaneously hit the pad and open the door. Jara would take care of the rest. Right. I didn't answer. I sat there and shook my head violently no, not on your life, while the wind bumped her around on the hull of the taxi. She looked through the window at me, and I had to give her credit: She kept the contempt she must have been feeling out of her eyes. She continued to beat on the door, while I felt about as guilty as I ever have in my life. But I stayed put. Pushed back down into my seat, frozen with terror. Finally, she gave up.

"She won't let me in, Kav." "Try it one more time." "Miss, please. The higher you get, the more difficult this will become. You'll be perfectly safe."
Her eyes were a luminous blue, and they pleaded with me. Open up. Get up off your sorry ass and let me in. If this ended happily, I decided, I would find Jara, apologize to her, and buy her a drink.