To THE LAND OF THE ELECTRIC ANGEL: Hugo and Nebula Award Finalist Author (The Frontiers Saga) (16 page)

"Enough, perhaps," Blake said.

It was Voss himself who got Calkins alone a half-hour later. He came back into the room to the others, barely suppressing his delight. For the benefit of any possible hidden microphones Voss said, "Well, I had to tell him. He could see that if Sister Meaker got the information from me, it wouldn't help him. And after Sister Meaker worked me over, I might not be in the proper serene mental attitude to open the vault. He figured, correctly, that I had to be one of the four.
We
leave in an hour or so," Voss said, looking pleased.

"North to the tomb," Vogel said.

"Yes," Voss answered with a look of anticipation. "I also discovered that west of here – from the Shoshone Mountains to the Sierras – is the province of the White Kingdom of Light. All across northern Nevada. The lower part – down to Vegas, Death Valley, and east over the Grand Canyon and almost down to Phoenix – is controlled by the Eye of the Mystery of Eternal Life."

"What about California, over to San Francisco?" Blake asked.

"I'm not certain. It's either the Order of the Celestial Hierarchy, or something called Guardians of the Throne of God."

"They sure have some names," Doreen said. "My mother used to go to the Church of the Redeemed Son of God, and I thought
that
was some name."

"Notice that the names are often rather specific," Granville interjected, "as though they outlined, or specified a certain
aspect,
and not a broad, general faith. Maybe we can use that theory in some way."

"I don't see how," Doreen said. "It sounds as if the whole damn world has gotten religion." She looked suddenly tired. "It just isn't what I expected. I – I expected ... more."

"More?" asked Rio.

"More of what we had. More fun, more excitement, more ...
more.
Bigger pleasure domes, maybe quicker and easier ways to get to Mars, or something like that. Just, uh,
more."

"Yes, I’m certain we all expected something different from this," Granville said, "but
this
is what we've got"

"For four hundred years," Vogel added.

"My God!" Doreen exclaimed. "I'd forgotten." She looked at Voss. "I didn't really think it would happen – or if it did happen, we wouldn't
really
live
hundreds
of years."

"Maybe we won't," Vogel said gloomily. "Or else they'll give us life."

"Oh, dear," Doreen sighed. To Rio she said, "I thought it was kind of like, you know, going along to
Triton
for a week, or maybe a weekend sub party out of Brisbane. I didn't..." Her voice trailed off and the voluptuous young beauty looked lost.

"What's Calkins's plan?" Vogel asked.

"I don't know," Voss answered. "We don't know bow they'll transport us. We may be in separate ships, or in holding cells in some kind of airborne version of what they brought us in with. But we have to watch for an opportunity."

Vogel made a cupping gesture with his hand around his ear, and pointed at the walls. The financier nodded, paused, then said quietly, "Don't jump at the first chance. Consider all possibilities. Try to alert the others." In a slightly louder voice he continued, "We don't know what the triggering mechanisms are for the hypnotic suggestion. We don't want to mess up our opportunity to get all that gold out of the vault."

To Blake the words were nonsense, but he saw how they fitted roughly into the idea Voss and Granville Franklin had planted in Calkins's mind.

Blake asked Granville, "Did you deduce anything else?"

"No, not much. I think they are down on sex because sex is the cause of pregnancy and pregnancies are the cause of overpopulation. I wouldn't be surprised if they licensed pregnancies. If not here, then somewhere, or maybe everywhere."

"Why do you think the Catholics and Jews are on the shit list around here?" Vogel asked.

"I don't know. I don't have enough information yet. Perhaps because they are older religions. There are older ones, of course – like the worship of Ishtar, the Olympian gods, or various Egyptian gods and goddesses or those found in Slavic and Norse myths – but some of those religions died out or were insignificant even back in our time. Perhaps even 'immortal' gods lose their power or potency when people stop believing in them."

Granville rubbed a hand across his face, massaging it hard. He took a deep breath and continued, "But the Hebrew religion is old, very old and well entrenched. Of course, there have been purges. Orthodox Christianity is also well established, especially in the Roman Catholic Church. Perhaps all these
new
religions didn't want to be compared, or reminded, or something. I just don't know yet."

They waited, impatiently and with growing nervousness. So much could happen to thwart them.

Finally, Voss said, "We will try to fly west to San Francisco. Los Angeles will be our second target, if we are diverted or blocked. I think I can contact my factors there. There should be some office of
something
here. Or a secure line to New York or Zurich."

A little while later, Blake spoke to the room at large: "A hundred years. One-oh-seven plus. We thought it was going to be ninety." He looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "You know, I thought the future was somehow going to be different. You know,
different
different – airy crystal cities and creatures of pure energy, fairyland parks with strange and wonderful devices to amuse us."

"Or a ruined, blasted land," Granville added.

"No, I thought we would find something really fine," Blake said. "A hundred years, maybe that's not enough. A thousand, three thousand maybe."

"More like a quarter-million, I'd say," Granville insisted. "Or more. A million. 'Creatures of pure energy' take time to evolve." The generalist turned to Vogel, who was next to him. "What did you think the future would be like?"

"I didn't think much about it," he said. "Like home maybe, only more so: more people, tougher."

"Then why did you come? Was it money?"

Vogel glanced at Jean-Michel Voss. "I was paid well."

"Is that the only reason?" Granville asked.

Vogel shook his head and took his time answering. "When times are tough, they need people like me." He didn't want to continue, and Blake saw Vogel's eyes swing to give him a hard look.

Granville turned to Rio. "And you, my dear, why did you come?"

She shrugged. "I was needed. And ... it was an adventure."

Granville snorted, then laughed. "Yes, indeed, it
is
that. And I suppose I must ask myself that same question, in all fairness. I came because it was a challenge! I had made certain public predictions, and I wanted to see..." He smiled around at the others. "We all wanted to see, I think. Man has always wanted to see what was on the other side. The other side of the time hill has proven to be most interesting."

"You think this is
interesting?"
Doreen asked incredulously.

"Oh, most interesting, my lovely lady, most interesting. It's less than a hundred and eight years, true, but the hundred years from, say, the end of the American Civil War to 1965 was a fantastic hundred years! Everything had accelerated tremendously! That's why I became a generalist – because the specialists were having such a hard time even keeping up with their own disciplines. Things were happening too fast, and had been, ever since way back in World War 11 My specialty is generality: seeing the bridges between specialties, the connections between isolated discoveries or theories, the spots where paths are sure to have crossed. I can also eliminate duplication of effort: often people in the same field go on making the same mistakes others have made because the field is so complex, and moving so fast, that they can't keep up, much less know what others have done."

Granville beamed at his fellow prisoners. "So I came to see what God had wrought with what Voss had bought."

Granville looked wryly now at Blake. "And you, our stowaway, why did you come? Was it just the semi-immortality?"

Blake hesitated. "No, I didn't really think about that at all. Did you?"

"Yes, a little. I thought it would be nice to have doubled or tripled my life span. I could study much more that way."

Blake looked at Doreen. "Did you think about the longevity benefits?"

"No." She brushed her hair back with both bands. "Not really. If I did, I guess I expected ... well ...
a
sort of very long youth. I came because, I guess, because Jean-Michel invited me." She gave the billionaire
a
quick look, but he was not paying her any attention.

"You haven't answered my question," Granville reminded Blake. "Why did you come?"

"Because of
her,"
Blake said, looking at Rio.

Granville sighed. "Forgive us, Hernando! Forgive us
Senor
de Gama! Forgive us Captain Hudson! Forgive us, Sir Francis! Forgive us Cristoforo! We came not for gold, but
with
gold!" Granville laughed loudly. "We came for immortality. For the invitation. Because we were needed. Because of love ... And because it was possible." He laughed again. "Forgive us, Magellan, for we have sinned on the explorer's code! Forgive us, Lewis and Clark! Forgive us Admiral Peary! Forgive us, Leif!" Granville chuckled again. "Neil, Marco, Sir Edmund, forgive us! We are petty explorers, without noble dreams. What would Darwin or Cook think of us, hey?" He slapped Vogel's knee in delight.

"Shut up," Vogel grumbled, but the generalist only laughed again.

They fell silent, with only an occasional rumble of quiet, wry laughter from Granville Franklin.

At last the door opened and Colonel Calkins entered. He went straight to Voss. "The gold. You can get it from the vault with no trouble?" Voss nodded. "Good. The congregation will be pleased. It will surely count on your record."

And yours,
Blake thought.
Or will the congregation ever know?

They walked out single file, down the corridor, and were put into a security elevator while Calkins and several soldiers rode in a second elevator with television and gas controls. They rose to a twenty-fourth-floor landing deck and were checked out by the colonel himself.

The aircar was big, but Blake was glad to see there was only one. The six of them climbed in, followed by Colonel Calkins and six soldiers, joining four crew members who were already inside.

The crew was in a sealed chamber forward, and Blake's heart sank. The new arrivals were put in seats and strapped in. Blake looked down and saw that the seat-belt harness was in reality an electronic alarm device that could only be unlocked by the crew's central control.
Only a professional escape artist could wiggle out of this one,
he thought darkly. Their fine plans of hijacking the aircar began to dissolve.

It rose swiftly and headed north.

Blake didn't have a good view, but the vehicle seemed to be moving very fast. After a half-hour it suddenly took a dive, and through a window Blake saw mountains rising around them. He heard Voss ask Calkins what was going on.

"Going below the Skypilots' radar sensors. We will fly just off the surface until we reach our destination."

Blake groaned. The surface from Salt Lake to the Sawtooth Mountains in Idaho was not too rough, but the Sawtooths ascended to the Bitteroot Range, which became the Rockies, and it was all up and down. Blake settled down for a rough ride.

The aircar swooped and fell, rose and plummeted for nearly four hundred miles – all at high speeds – with sudden, jolting azimuth turns as well, as they traversed canyons and valleys. Time after time Blake saw treetops and cliffs flash by right outside their windows. Rio, Doreen, and Granville became airsick, and he himself was on the verge. He looked at Vogel and Jean-Michel, who didn't seem particularly discomforted by the stomach-turning flying. Four of the soldiers had vomited all over themselves and were swaying weakly in their harnesses. One of the other two looked green.

The aircar suddenly lurched uncommonly hard, and Blake's head banged Rio's sharply. Sitting next to him, she was pale, with a greasy sort of sweat coating her face.

She smiled weakly at him and raised a feeble hand to pat his cheek. "Poor darling," she said.

Then the ship slowed and leveled, and there was a sigh from everyone. It descended, then touched down, and the rotors whispered to a silence. Several of the soldiers were ordered out, and they went, looking quite unmilitary.

After the "beachhead" had been secured, the prisoners heard and felt the seat locks click. Then they rose and exited from the aircraft, followed by Calkins and the rest of the squad; the four crew members exited, too, to stretch their legs, and walked off, chatting, away from the aircar.

The terrace was much as they remembered it.

Voss pointed out the lock entrance. "You had better let me go first, Colonel, as there are certain, ah, booby traps."

"'Booby traps'? Oh, you mean suckertricks. All right, but we'll be right behind you. Kroeg! Hayes! Cover him!"