Out of Phaze

  Except for one thing. She was doing what he did—too perfectly. She was like a three-dimensional mirror image. Nothing originated with her; it all was a reflection of him.

  He drew back. “Much improved,” he said. “But thou must not copy me in every detail. That makest thou seem—like a machine.”

  She laughed. “I understand! One must not be mechanical.”

  “Perhaps Mach would have had different advice,” he agreed, smiling.

  “I did not know you had changed identities, but I think I will know the difference hereafter. Though your body is a machine, your mind is alive.”

  He nodded. “I wonder how that be possible? I certainly feel not like a machine.”

  “I believe our forms determine our natures to a degree,” she said. “I do not feel like an amoeba, either.” She sighed. “And now I must make my small showing, and perhaps you will never kiss me again.”

  “I’ll make the effort,” he promised.

  She peeled back her suit, so that she became bare to the waist. “Watch me.”

  “I be watching thee.”

  “My hand, not my torso.”

  “Oh.” He modified his gaze accordingly.

  She held up her left hand. It was a fine, esthetic extremity, with four slender fingers and an opposed thumb, each nail delicately tinted. But slowly it changed. The fingers lost firmness, becoming floppy balloons. They sank back onto the body of the hand, which melted into a glob.

  Bane stared. “Thou hast no bones?”

  “No bones anywhere in my body. Only tissue that I make firm, patterned after human bones, to support the structure.”

  “When Fleta changes, she does it instantly. One moment she be a pretty girl; the next she be a hummingbird. Of course that’s magic.”

  “I cannot do that,” Agape admitted. “It does require a little time for me to change, and I must melt into my natural state before assuming an alternate form. And—I do not know the hummingbird. Is it of similar mass to the human form?”

  Bane snorted. “Hardly! It’s a tiny thing, hardly bigger than my thumb. Size matters not, with magic.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I think anyone in Proton would find it hard to believe.”

  “My mass remains constant. I could assume the form of a bird, but it would be of my present weight, and could not fly.”

  “Thy hand—it could become something else?”

  For answer, she concentrated. The lump of protoplasm at the end of her arm grew projections, each of which sprouted further projections, until she had about thirty thin fronds there. “A Formican appendage,” she said. “I remember that form from the time I visited their planet.”

  “So thy magic be limited in speed and size, but unlimited in form,” he concluded. “I think thy ability be as good as Fleta’s.”

  “Thank you—I think,” she said. The new appendage dissolved, and the human hand began to reform. “You are not revolted?”

  “Agape, I be used to shape-changing. Once did I envy the werewolves their ability to change from human form to canine form, and have all the powers of the animal. And I liked Fleta in all three of her forms.”

  “Then I am relieved. I will change form for you, when you ask me to.” She leaned toward him, and he, understanding her desire, kissed her. This time she was responsive without mirroring him. She was a rapid learner!

  The vehicle slowed. They broke. “We are there,” Agape said, hauling up her suit and restoring her helmet. “We shall search for your other self now.”

  Bane was almost disappointed. He cared less about shapes than about personality, thanks to his experience with the magical creatures of Phaze, and both her human form and her attitude were easy to accept. It was too bad he would lose contact with her when he exchanged places with his other self and returned to Phaze.

  They opened the vehicle and stepped out. They found ruins. There had evidently once been a small dome here, with a castle in it of the same type as that of the Blue Demesnes in Phaze, but all was wreckage now. The desert sand was doing its best to bury the remains.

  But there was no wreckage in Phaze. Bane walked around the oddly familiar premises, seeking some hint of his other self. If he overlapped the space, or even came close, he would know. It would not work for any other person; he could be walking right through others in Phaze, and never know. But his own self he could not miss.

  It wasn’t here. There was no sign of the self at all. Bane crisscrossed every part of the ruin, finding nothing.

  “He didn’t get here,” he said at last.

  “Surely some delay,” Agape said quickly. “Proceeding afoot, unfamiliar with the terrain—it might require days.”

  “It might. It also might mean he’s dead.”

  “We must not believe that!” she said. “I—I have no experience with this phenomenon of dual selves, but I conjecture—wouldn’t you feel something if there were demise? Is there not some continuing connection between the two of you?”

  “I suppose there should be,” Bane agreed thoughtfully. “I tuned in to him in the first place by going with the flow. The closer I got, the more I felt it, when I listened.”

  “Listen now!” she urged.

  He stood and listened. He tried to extend his awareness out, to become perceptive to the soul of his other self, wherever it might be. He could almost see his ambience reaching out in a great circle, sensitive to the ambience of his other identity in Phaze.

  He found it! Faintly in the distance, like an echo, he felt the rapport. “He be alive!” he exclaimed. “There!” He pointed to the southwest.

  “Back the way we came,” Agape said. “Or a little west; the vehicle curved eastward.”

  “We can go directly toward him!” Bane said, relieved. “Oh, thank thee for the notion, Agape!” He took hold of her, intending to kiss her, but discovered it was impossible while she was in suit and helmet.

  They returned to the vehicle. The dome of it sealed, and the air came in. Agape lifted back her helmet. “Did you have something in mind, Bane?”

  “Just to go toward my other self until we intercept him,” he said. Then, becoming aware of her expectant attitude: “Oh, yes.” He leaned over and kissed her. This time it was about as good as it seemed likely to get, in this circumstance.

  That gave him pause. “When I—thou willst be left here, with Mach.”

  “I know you must return to your own land,” she said. “For you, Proton is more alien than it is to me.”

  “Dost thou know, Agape, I almost wish I could take thee with me.”

  “I almost wish I could go,” she agreed. “But even as your place is there, my place is here. I have a duty to my species that I must fulfill. So I think that even were it possible, I would not go with you to your magic realm. I remain glad to have been with you these hours.”

  There didn’t seem to be much more to say. Agape started the vehicle moving, and guided it in the direction he indicated, this time keeping it under her own control. They proceeded slowly toward the rendezvous with his other self.

  After an hour of travel through the wasteland, they were startled by a voice from the vehicle’s speaker grille. “Directive: Serf Mach return immediately to base at Hardom. Serf Agape return immediately to base at Hardom.”

  “They are addressing us!” Agape said. “I must acknowledge.”

  “Wait!” Bane snapped. “Thou meanest we can speak to them?”

  “When I invoke the communication code,” she said. “It will only require a moment.” She reached for the panel.

  He blocked her hand. “Nay! If we speak to them, they will know we hear them. I must find my other self before we leave this course.”

  “But to disobey would be very bad,” she protested.

  “To obey might cost me my rendezvous! We have been getting closer; I can feel it. I can quit not now!”

  “But there will be punishment.”

  “They can punish me not after I’m gone!” Then
he reconsidered. “But thou willst still be here—and Mach too. That be bad.”

  “Serf Mach and/or serf Agape,” the speaker said. “Your vehicle is occupied and moving. If you are alive and conscious, respond immediately.”

  “We must answer!” she said.

  “But if we don’t, they’ll think we be dead or unconscious, and I can reach mine other self.”

  “I should not do this,” she said, keeping her hands away from the panel.

  “I’ll make it up to thee!” he said. “I’ll show thee all I know about—about being a girlfriend.”

  She smiled with a certain resignation. “Before or after you return to Phaze?”

  “Before, of course! I can do it not after.”

  “Then that must be now.”

  Now he realized the significance of her question. If he took time now, he might lose his chance to achieve rapport with his other self, because there was no way to tell what threat the other might be under in Phaze. He couldn’t afford to wait a moment longer than he had to. But if he didn’t do it now, it wouldn’t get done at all.

  “Mayhap thou canst tell the vehicle to move by itself, as thou didst before,” he suggested.

  “I must give it a destination—and I think there are none it will understand, for this.”

  She was right again. He had to tune in on the other self, and she had to direct the vehicle to the spot he indicated. They could not let the vehicle run itself.

  “We shall have to stop for a while, then,” he said heavily.

  “No, Bane, I would not interfere with your desire. Go to meet your other self.”

  “And leave thee here, without thine information, to be maybe sent back to thy world because thou didst help me,” he said. “I can do that not.”

  “I think Mach would show me, if I explained. Do not delay.”

  “I want to show thee myself!” he said. “It be my job.”

  “I release you from it.”

  “Nay, what be right be right. Anyway—” He paused with realization. “I really do want to do it myself. I mean, not because I said I would. I—”

  “Do not forget, I am an alien creature,” Agape said.

  “Thou’rt a nice person, in human form,” he said. “Stop the vehicle.”

  “But you must not delay! I understand that.”

  “We have a conflict of interests. My father taught me to do what is right, no matter what the cost. Thou mayst have cost thyself thy stay on Proton, by helping me; I must risk my return to Phaze, helping thee. It be right. But more: I haven’t known thee long, Agape, but I like thee very well already. I want to do what thou dost want me to.”

  She had a notion. “Perhaps we could keep the vehicle going, on a semi-automatic course, and you can tell me when to correct it. So no travel time would be lost.”

  “Will that work?”

  “We shall find out.” She adjusted the buttons on the panel, then settled back. The vehicle kept moving.

  “Oh, Agape, I wish I had met thy like in Phaze!” he exclaimed, leaning over to kiss her. This time the experience was intensely rewarding.

  In moments she was out of her suit and hugging him hungrily. But the seat restraints would not release their lower extremities while the vehicle was moving, and threatened to confine their upper portions too whenever there was a bump. This severely limited the action.

  “I will deactivate the restraints,” Agape said, touching the panel again.

  “Serf Mach and/or serf Agape,” the speaker said, startling them both. “Vehicle safety restraints have been deactivated. This indicates conscious activity. Acknowledge status immediately.”

  “Canst silence it?” Bane asked.

  “Serf Mach return immediately to base at—” the speaker said, cutting off as she touched another button.

  “What should I do now?” Agape asked.

  “Come join me in my seat—no, I’ll join thee in thine—” Bane hesitated, finding neither location suitable. Each place was made for one person; there really was not room for two, especially not for this type of activity. They needed more space.

  “In my natural state, there are no such problems,” Agape said. “But of course our forms are not fixed.”

  “Don’t change thy form!” Bane cried. “There has got to be a way!”

  They tried for some time to find a way, but the confines of the vehicle were simply too restricted. Kissing and some handling were all they could manage.

  Then there was a crash. Both were thrown against the front panel. The vehicle tilted and tumbled. It came to rest abruptly, and the smell of the polluted air outside came in.

  “Dome’s cracked!” Agape exclaimed, scrambling desperately back into her suit.

  “We watched not, and we hit something,” Bane said, chagrined.

  They forced up the canopy and climbed out. The headlamp shone off at an angle, but the beam of light was enough.

  “The Lattice!” Bane cried. “I forgot the Lattice!”

  “This is an interruption in the terrain?”

  “Worse than that! It be a pattern of cracks in the ground, very deep. Demons lurk in their depths. Only a unicorn can cross it without falling in, and not all of them. I forgot that the same pattern exists in Proton, only without the demons. We be lucky we crashed in the shallow part of it!”

  Agape leaned into the vehicle and caused the map to appear. “Yes, it is there—LATTICE,” she said. “I should have checked for hazards of terrain. Now I see why the vehicle traveled in a curve going north.”

  “We’ll have to go around,” Bane said.

  “I fear not, Bane. The wheel is broken, and we have not the means to repair it. We shall have to walk.”

  “Around the Lattice? That would take forever!”

  “Will your other self cross it? How will he do it?”

  “He would have to skirt it to the south,” Bane said. “But I want him not to do that, because the demons watch the path. They’ll come out and grab him. I need to intercept him before he gets here.”

  “Then won’t the demons grab you?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Me? Hardly! I would float them into the river. But Mach won’t know magic; it takes years to learn to do it properly, and only a few even have the talent. He may not.”

  “Then I suppose we had better walk,” she said.

  “Will help come for thee, if thou dost ask for it in the vehicle? Thou couldst wait there, out of danger, while I go on.”

  “The cracking of the canopy would have caused an automatic distress signal to be launched,” she said. “They will be on the way already.”

  “Then I’ll get caught!” he said. “I must get going!”

  “I will come with you,” she said. “There may still be some assistance I can lend.”

  Bane doubted this, but liked her company, so he agreed. At the same time he felt guilty, because he had made her a promise he was unable to keep. She was likely to pay heavily for her involvement with him. He wished again that he didn’t have to leave her.

  They walked, skirting the network of cracks, still homing in on the other self. Bane now judged it to be in the region of the crater; evidently Mach had taken the wrong path, but somehow made it through the swamp to relative safety. But there was no way out of the crater except back through the swamp, and if he tried that path again, the monsters would be twice as ferocious as before. Bane had to intercept him and make the exchange before Mach started moving again.

  Something glittered in the air. “Oh, no,” Bane said. “A night dragon!”

  “Or a flying machine,” Agape said. “I fear they have discovered us.”

  “We must hide!”

  “We cannot; it is my suit and the metal in your body they orient on. Oh, Bane, I am sorry you were not able to complete your quest.”

  Bane took her suited form in his arms, unspeaking. He discovered that he was not as sorry as he thought he should have been. They waited for the flying machine to capture them.

  Chapter 6 br />
  Revelations

  Evidently the news had spread among monsters that Mach was a creature to be reckoned with, for no others threatened them on the path through the swamp. They returned to the glade where he had left the clothes, but the clothes were gone. “The pigheads,” Fleta muttered. “They root for aught not held by spell.”

  So he would have to continue with his makeshift outfit. Mach shrugged. After the amount of effort he had put into it, he might as well use it!

  “Now this path bears south,” Fleta said, indicating the one he had left before. “But it leads to the Herd Demesnes, and once in that open country, we can trek north as far as the Lattice.” She glanced sidelong at him. “Mayhap we can get a unicorn to carry thee.”

  “I’ve already been carried by a unicorn!” Mach exclaimed. “Look where it got me!”

  “Aye, then shall we walk,” she said, somewhat wearily. “Never fear, we shall see thee safely to the Blue Demesnes.”

  They walked the path. It was pleasant enough, now that they were clear of the swamp. The great trees leaned over to spread their shade graciously, and the ferns seemed to keep the ground clean.

  Fleta paused to sniff the air in the fashion of an animal. “Methinks I smell aught foul,” she remarked. “Best we not pause.”

  The path followed a ridge, then curved to the east and dropped down to a stream. Mach was ready to wade through, but Fleta held him back. “Not this one; there be poison in it. We must touch not the water.”

  “But it is too broad to jump over,” he said.

  “There be a ladder of rope. We merely pull it across and tie it in place.” She pointed, and there across the stream was a thick coil of ropes.

  “How do we pull it, without first crossing?”

  “There be a string.” She reached up near a branch, her fingers questing for it. Then she stamped her foot with sudden anger. “It be not here!”

  There was a raucous cackle from the bushes at the far side. “Thou dost bet it be not there, nymph!” a voice cried.

  “Methought I winded garbage!” Fleta snapped.

  “Smile when you say that, cutie-pie!” the other responded. “Thou’rt in Harpy Demesnes!” And the speaker came into view: a gross, filthy creature, with a woman’s head and bosom, and a vulture’s wings and tail and legs. The odor became stronger.