Chapter 10: Rescue

Pete looked back at a sudden clamor of harsh voices in the night, far behind them. Curses were hurled back and forth as soldiers swarmed over the nowempty car, but the shadows that hid them were deep. Dron led the way down dim alleys and across deserted boulevards under the dawn's watery light. Several times, they hid in thick shrubbery as steam cars rolled silently by with loads of armed soldiers.

They followed a roundabout route, and it was almost fully light when Dron finally reached the residential street he had been heading for. He led them up to the door of an imposing dwelling set amidst tall shrubs, well back from the front of its lot. Motioning to the others to stay hidden, he pounded with a huge scaled fist on the knocker plate.

"Who is it?" called a sleepy voice, at last. "Go away, and leave an old man in peace."

"Markoth! Come down and let us in. It's Dron, and I need your help. And, I've got news for you about your pet project."

"What? About spatial anomalies? Don't go away. I'll be right down!" True to his word, he had the door open for them in seconds, standing there with a hastily donned robe draped about his shoulders. "It is you! What are you doing here? Don't you know that there's an order out for your arrest? And what in the name of the Six Elder Gods are these creatures?" The old Thantan gazed in amazement as the humans scurried in through the door, followed by KeeBar, Thanna, and Dron's four soldiers.

"They are called 'Hhumanss'," Dron explained. "They claim to be from another plane of existence, and need our help to get back home. Shut that door, quickly! I've agreed to help them, because I think that our world will be the better off for it. Also, they accidentally uncovered a plot by Pleorran's supporters to take over the government by force."

"But, that's why the order is out for your arrest," Markoth protested. "They are making some ridiculous claim that you have gone over to Pleorran's side."

As he talked, he led the way to the main room of the house. It had once been a formal living room, but now combined the functions of study and experimental laboratory. Tangled webs of cable suspended masses of laboratory gear from the ceilings, and books and papers hid every available level surface.

"Not many people believe the charges against you," Markoth admitted, as Dron snorted his anger. "But some people will believe anything they're told. If the Council's peacekeepers catch you, they'll toss you into a cell where you can't tell anybody anything."

"Then, I'll just have to get to the governor's office before the peacekeepers catch me," Dron declared.

"That sounds like a good way to get yourself killed," the old scientist stated bluntly. "I thought that I had taught you to use your head better than that."

"Then what do you suggest?" Dron was only partly convinced. "We don't have much time."

"You have to get close enough to talk to him. With Pleorran on the move, and wild rumors of assassination plots in the mists, it won't be easy. His office is well guarded during the day, and his home has troops around it at night," Markoth mused, shaking his head doubtfully. "Perhaps if you could get to his office before it is open, you could catch him there. Once he sees who you are, he is bound to listen to what you have to say. And now, tell me about these strange creatures you bring to me. How is it that they carry large enough masses of iron on their persons to make my detectors jump like crazy?"

Pete studied the old scientist's reactions as Dron related the story one more time. By now, he had learned to see past such surface characteristics as scales and serrated fangs. He judged that Markoth was essentially a simple soul, remote from politics and intrigue. His main interest in life was the search for new knowledge, and he only reluctantly dragged his attention from it long enough to notice what was happening in the world around him.

"So, here we are," Dron concluded. "They can tell you much more about their world, and how they got here, than I can. This one, who is called 'Ppheet', is the leader of their group."

The old scientist eagerly turned his attention to the humans as Dron and one of his men left the house. For the next several hours, Markoth drank thirstily of the knowledge offered him. As ignorant as he was of electromagnetic phenomena in general, he still had a good theoretical knowledge of physics. Many of his questions taxed Amy and Pete's command of his language to the utmost.

"My curiosity was aroused when I was only a hatchling, by phenomena that were inexplicable by our science," he told them. "Happenings that were dismissed as delusions by reputable scientific authorities. Rains of stones, strange lights in the sky, things that move and fly through the air by no known agency. Some students of such happenings talk of 'powers of the mind', but can give no consistent explanation of how such things could work. There is much that we do not know about the mind, but I do not think that the answers I seek lie in that direction. I have long studied, and experimented, and thought, trying to find a single crack in the blank wall of spatial theory. One place where the tip of a single talon could be inserted. I had begun to think that my work was in vain, and that there was no such clawhold, but now you have come to show me the way to begin. Tell me, what is the principle behind the signaling device you wish to build?"

"You are already familiar with electrical currents, and their magnetic effects," Amy replied. "But, since your world has little iron, it may be that you have not discovered their corollary, magnetic currents. A man called Ehrenhaft first stumbled on them in our world. Most scientists did not believe him, explaining his work away or simply ignoring it. Another experimenter accidentally discovered some strange side effects of such currents, eventually opening a gateway between universes. He was very lucky. His first crude model was able to tune to a universe that had a livable planet within reach. He thought, at first, that he had found a way to travel from one point to another on his own world, but the gravity was wrong, and the days and nights were not the same length. Then, he thought that he was on another planet in his own universe, a planet of another star. He proved to his own satisfaction that this was not so, since a clock on this other world did not run at the same speed as one that stayed behind on his own.

"By this time, he had a pretty good idea of what he had found, and what it could lead to. Distrusting all governments, he kept his discovery to himself as long as he could, using it to explore the world that he had found, studying its strange plants and animals. When he found gems and precious metals not far from where the portal opened, he began to build an organization to develop his invention. When he was rich enough to protect himself, he made his discovery public. He did more than that. He broadcast his secret all over the world, leasing portals to all who could afford them, to be used according to simple rules. That way, no one organization could monopolize its use. Not only did this prevent it from being used as a weapon, the opening of new worlds gave nations something else to hold their attention. The wars that were going on died away to nothing.

"The only flaw in his plan was that the government of his country, beset by an economic depression and massive unemployment, had already taken control of the labor market. Even that hold will slip, after a while. This thing is too big, and too important, to be left in the hands of a bunch of ignorant politicians whose only concern is how many votes they can gather by giving away something that doesn't belong to them in the first place!"

"You mean, it's too important to stay in the hands of corporate boards of directors, whose only concern is the shortsighted weighing of profits," Steve fairly snarled. "What your precious Neal Marten has done is worse than criminal, and some day he will be made to pay for his misdeeds"

"You sound like you have a private stake in arranging his downfall. Why are you so upset?" Amy asked, innocently.

"I was in charge of his case, when the Internal Revenue Service first caught onto the fact that he was getting wealthy from some unknown source. He escaped when we came to arrest him. Through one of his portals, we found out later. He got off by having his lawyers arrange a settlement of his just debts, but some of us have long memories." Steve frowned at what was plainly still a painful memory. "That isn't the point, though. This is something that should be in the hands of farsighted statesmen, and civil servants. Men who will see that it is used for the good of mankind."

"You mean, like your quaint train system?"

"And just what is wrong with our train system?"

"Nothing that couldn't be cured by giving it back to private industries, with a few sensible laws to guide them," she retorted. "But to get back to the theory behind the portals. They work by stressing the space within a given volume, so that it corresponds in all of its characteristics to the space of another universe. An object passing through this stressed space condition assumes physical constants incompatible with its existence in its own universe. This causes the object, whether it be an atom of substance or a photon of radiant energy, to appear in the universe to which it is now attuned, and in the place most logical for it to be. The interface between universes is called a portal, and its location on the other side of the dimensional barrier can be controlled to a certain extent."

"And you can build such a portal?" Markoth asked eagerly.

"If I have enough iron," Amy replied. "Otherwise, the most I can do is to build a signaling device to call for help. As Dron told you, our time here is severely limited by our food supply. All the hiking that we have done has caused us to use it up at a faster rate than we had planned, so we don't have much time left."

Nancy and Lyssa, lulled by the long conversation, had dropped off to sleep on a thickly woven moss rug by the fire. Charley had followed Dron's three remaining soldiers out into the kitchen area. Steve, looking unhappy at the amount of technical information being given to Markoth, had finally drifted over to a shelf of books. He stood there, riffling through the thick pages in search of pictures, while KeeBar and Thanna stood by a curtained window, peering out at the street.

As the morning wore on, people appeared, going about their normal tasks. Frequently, steam powered vehicles went whooshing past. Pete went over to stand by the window beside KeeBar, as Amy progressed into discussions of science and mathematics that were far outside of his knowledge or understanding.

"What do you think of what you have learned, so far?" He asked KeeBar.

"I have learned that my world contains things most strange and wonderful," he answered, simply. "These Great Ones, Thantans as they call themselves, have much knowledge that my people could use to make better their lives."

"You've talked a lot with Dron's soldiers. Why do their rulers oppose giving your people this knowledge?"

"Their ancestors did fight our ancestors. It was where Dron's fort is now. In a great battle, they drove my people back into the swamps forever. I do not think that my people would want to live any other place, though. Not here, where the hard ground would hurt their feet, and where the foods they like best are not found. The Great Ones should not have much to fear from us, as long as we are treated with honor. It makes me a small amount sad, and more than that amount angry, that they have kept us in ignorance for so long."

"I am afraid for my people," Thanna spoke up. "If this Pleorran is in truth hiding in the swamps, he could bring fighting and death to many of us. We have always been taught that the Great Ones are the source of all wisdom. We would follow such a one blindly into battle, fighting those who are pointed out to us as evil. I can see only too clearly, the spears of the Chosen Ones lifted against our brothers, and against such ones as these." She pointed a webbed finger at an idly strolling couple, and at a group of children who were playing a noisy game in the street.

"The time you speak of could be upon us," Pete answered, frowning. "If so, I don't see any way to stop it. The longer we work, the less sure I am that we can even save ourselves."

"Do not despair, my friend," KeeBar told him. "You have come this far. So much farther than seemed possible when we set out. Surely, you will be able to go the rest of the way."

Pete didn't answer, staring morosely out of the window where a heavy shower had driven everyone to cover. The shower passed, a faint image of EssChad's ruddy sun burning through the thinning clouds for a moment before it hid its face again. He was about to turn away, when KeeBar gripped his arm, pointing down the street.

"Look! I think is car Dron left in."

The vehicle crept along at a steady pace, swerving to avoid people and other cars, but seemingly trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It swung into Markoth's driveway, not stopping until it was well hidden from the street. The soldier who had left with Dron leaped out, hurrying into the house.

"What happened?" Markoth asked. "Where is Dron?"

"In jail! He ordered me to wait and watch, while he went in alone. There was much shouting and loud noises, then a squad of peacekeepers brought his Excellency out in chains. He didn't seem to be hurt, but they would not let him speak to anyone. I followed them to the jail, then came back here as fast as I could."

He told them that the jail was a temporary one, converted from a cheap hotel and used to house political prisoners.

"What do you think they'll do?" Pete asked.

"Bring him to trial, first thing in the morning. Then, they'll take him out and shoot him," was Markoth's dire prediction.

"Then, we'll have to rescue him tonight. Lyssa, Steve, and I should be able to do that. If we can't, then more of us would do no better."

"Why not me?" Nancy demanded. "I won't stay behind while you go into danger!"

"Three of us are enough, and Lyssa and Steve are better shots."

"How about me?" Amy demanded.

"You are too valuable to risk. You are the only one who knows how to build a signaler. If you are killed, the rest of us are sunk. We'll take this one soldier with us to drive the car, and show us where Dron is. No, Dan. You aren't going with us, either. I know you're about well, but three of us will be enough. You can help with getting everything together that you think you'll need. Markoth! We're going to have to hide out while you and Amy build the signaler. Where is the best place?"

"The first place they'll look is right here, since I am known to be one of Dron's friends. The next place they'll go, is Dron's family estates. Too few of his retainers would be there to hold off the peacekeepers for the length of time we'll need." He paused, calculating times and distances in his head. "The one thing they won't expect is for him to head back the way he came, since they believe he is a part of this plot to revolt. They will expect him to stay here, where his friends are."