Plenty. But theres no time for me to explain it now. Ill get you safely out of this building. Youve got to get back to your lab on your own power. Ill join you there in about an hour. Quellen shook his head. Not that I think youll stay free for very long, Lanoy. Kloofmans hungry for your machine. He wants to use it to send political prisoners back. And to raise public revenues. Hell solve his unemployment problem by shooting the prolets back to 500,000B.C.and letting them get eaten by tigers. Youll be picked up again, Im sure of it. But at least it wont be my doing.
He escorted Lanoy from the building. The little slyster gave Quellen a baffled look as he scuttled away toward the quickboat ramp.
Ill be seeing you in a little while, Quellen said.
He boarded a quickboat himself, a local, and headed for his apartment to perform one last chore. Had Kloofman taken steps against him yet? Doubtless They were having frantic conferences in the chambers of the High Government. It wouldnt be long now, though, and Quellen would be safe.
He had come to understand a great many things. Why Kloofman wanted the machine so badly, for one thing: as a tool to extend his own power over the world. Unscrupulous, it was. And I nearly helped him get it.
Then, too, Quellen saw why the recorded hoppers had all come from 248691. It didnt mean that the backward flow had been cut off next year, as he had assumed. It simply meant that control of the machine had passed then from Lanoy to Kloofman, and that all hoppers sent back after 2491 were hurled by the new process, which had a greater range, thrown back so far that they could be no possible threat to Kloofmans regime. And would not, of course, show up in any historical records. Quellen shuddered. He wanted no part of a world in which the government held such powers.
He entered his apartment and activated the stat. The glow of theta force enveloped him. Quellen stepped through, and emerged in his African cottage.
Mortensen? he shouted. Where are you?
Down here!
Quellen peered over the edge of the porch. Mortensen was fishing. Stripped to the waist, his pale skin partly red and partly tan, he waved to Quellen affably.
Come on, Quellen said. Youre going home!
Id rather stay, thank you. I like it here.
Nonsense. Youve got a date to hop.
Why hop if I can hang out here? Mortensen asked reasonably. I dont understand why you brought me here, but I dont feel like leaving now.
Quellen had no time to argue. It did not fit into his plan to keep Mortensen from making his May 4 hop. Quellen had no vested interest in disturbing the recorded past, and Mortensens value as a hostage would shortly be zero. It was conceivable that Mortensens failure to hop on schedule would jeopardize Quellens own continued existence, if he happened to be a descendant of the hopped Mortensen. Why take the risk? Mortensen would have to hop.
Come, Quellen said.
No.
Sighing, Quellen moved in and once again anesthetized the man. He hauled the limp Mortensen into the cottage and thrust him through the stat, following a moment later himself. Mortensen lay sprawled out on the floor of Quellens apartment. In a short while, hed awaken and try to comprehend all that had been happening to him, and perhaps hed attempt to get back to Africa. But by then he would have registered on the Appalachia televector field, and Kloofmans men would be on their way to pick him up. Kloofman would make sure that Mortensen hopped on schedule.
Quellen left the apartment for the last time. He ascended the flyramp and waited for the quickboat. He knew the route to Lanoys place, thanks to Brogg.
He would rather have triumphed over Kloofman than have taken this route. But he had been in a trap, and a man in a trap must seek the sane path to freedom, not the most glamorous one. There was irony in the decision, of course: the man assigned to police the hopper problem becoming a hopper himself. Yet there was a kind of inevitability, Quellen saw, right from the start, that made him one with Norm Pomrath and Brogg and the others. He had begun to make his hop the day he secured the African retreat for himself. Now he was merely completing the logical course of action.
It was late afternoon by the time Quellen arrived. The sun was dipping to the horizon, and colors danced on the polluted lake. Lanoy was waiting for him.
Everythings ready, Quellen, he said.
Good. Can I rely on you to be honest!
You let me go, didnt you? Theres honor even among slysters, said Lanoy. Youre sure you want to do this?
Positive. I cant stay here. Im anathema to Kloofman now. I gave him an uncomfortable ten minutes, and hell make me pay for it if he ever catches me. But he wont catch me. Thanks to you.
Come inside, Lanoy said. Damn you, I never thought Id be helping you this way.
If youre smart, said Quellen, youll go the same way. Kloofmans bound to catch you sooner or later. It cant be avoided.
Ill take my chances, Quellen. Lanoy smiled. When the time comes, Ill look Kloofman in the eye and see if I cant strike a deal with him. Come along. The machines waiting.
16.
It was done.
There was a swirling and a twisting, and Quellen felt as if he had been turned inside out. He was floating on a purple cloud high above some indistinct terrain, and he was falling.
He dropped, heels over head, and landed in a scrambled heap on a long green carpet. He lay there for a moment or two, breathless, clutching at the carpet for stability in an uncertain world.
A handful of the carpet tore off in his hands. Quellen looked at it in puzzlement.
Grass.
Living grass. Strands of it in his clenched fingers.
The clean smell of the air hit him next, almost as a physical shock. It was painful to pull air like that down into his lungs. It was like inhaling in a room with full oxy turned on. But this was outdoors. The air in Africa was not like that, because it held an overstratum of residues from the more densely populated regions of the world.
Quellen gathered himself together and stood up. The grassy carpet extended in all directions, and in front of him there was a great thicket of trees. Quellen looked. A small gray bird came out on the overhanging branch of the nearest tree and began to chirp, unafraid, at Quellen.
He wondered how long Kloofmans minions would search for him before they concluded that he had hopped. Koll would be apoplectic. And would Kloofman cope with Lanoy? He hoped not; Kloofman was a sinister unreal monster, and Lanoy, despite his slyster habits, had a sense of honor.
Quellen began to move toward the forest. He would have to locate a likely stream and build some sort of house next to it, he decided. Improvised architecturehed make out, though his first attempts might not be very impressive. It would be his house, at any rate.
He felt no guilt at having taken this route. He had been a misfit, thrown into a world he could only hate and which could only ensnarl him. Norm Pomrath had taken this route. Brogg had. Now it was Quellens turn. At least, before he had left, he had made a valiant try to defend himself against that world. It had been madness to think that he could match guile with the High Government. But he had shaken Kloofman, at least for a few minutes, and that was a worthy accomplishment. He had shown he was a man. Now valors part dictated a quick exit, before Kloofmans superior might crushed him.
Two deer came bounding out of the forest. Quellen stood aghast. He had never seen land animals of that size, not even in Africa. The African mammals had long since been penned in preserves. Were these creatures dangerous? They looked gentle. They skipped off across the plain.
Quellens heart began to throb as he filled his lungs with the sweet air. Marok, Koll, Spanner, Brogg. Kloofman.Helaine. Judith. They began to fade and blur. Social regurgitation. Quickboats. Good old Lanoy, he thought. Hed kept his word after all. Back to an unspoiled continent.
The world is mine, Quellen thought.
A tall redskinned man emerged from the forest and leaned against a tree, regarding Quellen gravely. He was dressed in a leather belt, a pair of sandals, and nothing else. The redskinned man studied Quellen for a moment and then raised his arm in a gesture Quellen could not fail to interpret. A warm feeling of comradeship glowed in Quellen. This man welcomed him. This man did not fear him.
Palm upraised, smiling at last, Quellen went forward to meet him.