Glory Lane

Seeth caught Kerwin before he fell, smirked down at him. “So much for interspecies camaraderie, kid.”

  “I just thought...” Kerwin was dazed, stunned, and more than a little hurt emotionally. “I thought that since we’re all fighting these invaders for the same reason...”

  “Who says it’s for the same reason?” Seeth helped him stand straight. “You thought you could talk to the big bulb as an equal? You oughta know better than that, man. Don’t take it so hard. I get the same kind of reaction when Iggy and Slop and me go walking through the West Valley shopping mall.”

  The Isotat did not apologize and Kerwin certainly didn’t think of demanding one. Next time he might find himself on the receiving end of more than a temporary sunburn. The alien continued talking as though nothing had hap­pened which, to its way of thinking, was probably true.

  “What might make a difference would be the ability to make use of Izmir.”

  “Use him?” Kerwin couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was mad, however unreasonably so. “Use him for what?”

  “The question follows itself. A circular problem. I will contemplate its circumference.”

  It was hell doing nothing. Ganun continued drinking and was joined by several equally fatalistic senior officers. The ship’s guests sat off in a corner by themselves. The Isotat contemplated silently. And every so often the ship shuddered as one of the Sikan’s world-annihilating blasts sifted through the Isotat defensive screen sufficiently to remind them of the awesome battle that was searing this tiny corner of existence.

  Izmir floated close to the ceiling, blissfully indifferent to the concerns of mere thinking beings.

  “I wonder.” Seeth glanced over at the unhappy Rail, who looked thinner than ever. “Izmir listens to you.”

  “I don’t know that he listens to me,” the Prufillian replied, “so much as it simply suits him to follow my directions lead.”

  “Well, what if you told him to turn himself into a gun? He’s seen guns. He can turn himself into anything. Maybe he could frighten away this Isotat character.”

  Rail shook his head. “The Isotat are all that stands between us and these Sikan. They are fighting them on our behalf too, remember.”

  “Says they. All we know about the Sikan is what this Isotat’s told us. I don’t know about you guys, but me, I don’t believe anything anybody tells me straight off. That’s a good way to get shafted.”

  “It could have killed me when I tried to walk over to it. I mean, I felt enough to know that.” Kerwin played with the laces of his sneakers. “You could sense the power.”

  Miranda ran her fingers down his cheek. The skin tin­gled. “Got a neat tan.”

  “Better than a coffin. You guys heard how it talked. You, me, all of us, we’re nothing to it. It’s only interested in Izmir. In spite of that, it took care not to kill me. For that matter, it could already have killed everybody on the ship. It hasn’t. So I think maybe the Isotat really are the good guys, even if they’re not exactly friendly.”

  “Maybe.” Seeth still sounded reluctant. “But only be­cause it serves their own ends to be friendly. I still don’t trust ‘em.”

  The ship shuddered again, only this time it was much worse. There was a sharp, wrenching sensation. Just be­fore he lost consciousness, Kerwin thought he saw the Isotat explode like a giant, floating jellyfish, but he couldn’t be certain. It might only have been another protective burst of light.

  This is it, he thought, feeling oddly calm. The Sikan have shattered the Isotat defenses. It’s all over, finished. He discovered he was not afraid of the darkness, and this made him inordinately proud.

  12

  When he came to, he found himself lying with his head on Rail’s leg. The bony limb wasn’t much of a pillow and he sat up fast, shaking. He felt as if a tremendous electric current had been passed through his body. Blinking, he saw Seeth sitting up nearby, rubbing his head. Miranda was in front of him.

  Six feet away hovered a series of infinitely intersecting metal strips, with a single blue eye drifting in the center.

  Kerwin rose, studied their new surroundings. They were isolated in the middle of a large, unadorned, brightly lit room. The ceiling was many stories overhead. Still shaky, he started off to his left and was almost knocked down again by an invisible field. He and Seeth quickly ascer­tained that the caging field was fifteen feet in diameter and extended well above their heads.

  “Where are we?” Rail looked numbed.

  “Not in Kansas, Jack, I can tell you that. Hey, check it out. Company.”

  A door opened, or rather a hole appeared, in the far wall. Four things that most closely resembled giant levitat­ing squids drifted into the room. Their bodies were short and stubby. Unlike the Isotat, they had eyes. These were large, fiery red-orange in hue, and set with tiny, deep-red pupils. The bodies were striped blue and yellow. Instead of tentacles they had four clawlike grippers located near their heads, two below and two above the angry eyes. The largest was some forty feet long and might have weighed twenty tons.

  So it was natural that the prisoners moved to the back of their cage as these impressive creatures approached, star­ing in at them.

  “Sikan?” Kerwin whispered fearfully. He didn’t like the looks of any part of their captors.

  “Has to be,” Seeth murmured back. “Nothin’ else could be this ugly.”

  “For God’s sake, watch your mouth! Maybe they can read our thoughts.”

  “So what? If they wanted to kill us they wouldn’t have mailed us over in one piece.” He glared defiantly at the nearest monster. “Ain’t that right, Jack?”

  “Correct.” The Sikan who had replied spoke to its companions. “You see? Despite its small size and primi­tive structure it is capable of rudimentary reason.”

  “So why didn’t you kill us? Why ain’t you killing us right now?”

  “Sshhh!” Kerwin looked frantic. “Don’t give it any ideas.”

  “We have not disposed of you because of the aura that surrounds you.”

  “Aura? What aura?” Seeth looked down at himself. I ain’t got any aura on me.”

  “It links you together somehow,” the Sikan continue: “We cannot analyze it entirely, therefore we chose not to tamper with it for now.”

  Rail straightened a little. “Let me guess. Izmir.”

  “The object of our long journey, yes. You are linked with it somehow. Therefore there is the possibility you might have some influence over it. We do not destroy what we do not understand. That can come later.”

  “Then you have defeated beaten the Isotat?” Rail said hesitantly.

  “No. The battle continues. The Isotat will not disen­gage, but we were able by means of a single deft maneu­ver to slip in briefly enough to transfer you here. They have struck back furiously upon discovering our achieve­ment. We have lost two ships of the Grand Crossing.”

  “Don’t expect us to cry for you,” said Seeth.

  “The Isotat have also lost one. This is a conflict that will rage on until one group or the other has been utterly defeated. If you have any hopes of preserving your useless lives, and you have any kind of influence over what you call Izmir, you should consider showing us how to utilize this. While you are not worth exterminating, we are aware that to some small organics their lives have value, if only to themselves. If you can show us how to influence this Izmir in any useful manner we would consider placing you intact on a world where you would be capable of survival.”

  “Is that a promise, ugliness?” Seeth inquired.

  “Consider it a formal offer.”

  “I want to go home!” Miranda had finished crying but was still upset.

  “We don’t have anything to do with any of this,” Kerwin told it, trying one more time. “I told that to the Isotat and now I’m telling you. We—“

  Seeth clapped a palm over his brother’s mouth. “Don’t pay any attention to him, guys. He just makes a lot of silly mouth-noises but he doesn’t really say an
ything. Just likes to hear himself.”

  “You will be granted time to consider our offer.” A slight tremble ran through the floor and the Sikan seemed to draw a little closer together. “The Isotat press their attack forcibly. You will have time, but not much.”

  With that, they pivoted in midair as neatly as four fighter planes flying in formation and vanished back through the hole in the far wall. The hole closed up behind them as cleanly as if someone had painted it shut.

  Kerwin scanned the ceiling, walls. There was no sign of window or camera, but he didn’t doubt for an instant they were under constant observation. Not that they could get away with anything in private. They had nothing to get away with. They were so much flotsam, tossed haphaz­ardly onto one beach only to find themselves sucked out by the tide to be unwillingly deposited somewhere else. They’d long since lost control over their fate.

  “So they’re keeping us alive on the off chance that we might have some kind of control over Izmir.” He sat down tiredly. “Like fleas on a dog.”

  “Come on, brother.” Seeth tried to sound encouraging. “We ain’t dead yet, man. At least, I don’t think we are.” He frowned, as if unexpectedly confronted with an uncom­fortable possibility.

  “No, we still live,” Rail assured him. “While we live we may hope. Despair does no one any good.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Kerwin mumbled. “If I want to sink into despair I’m going to.”

  “The Isotat may yet steal us back.”

  “Maybe, though they couldn’t move Izmir off Gamin’s ship. The Sikan have done that.”

  “I wonder,” Rail muttered aloud. “Could it be that the Isotat failed to transfer Izmir to their vessel because they tried to move only him and did not try to take us with him? Perhaps there is some sort of connection after all.”

  “Be realistic.” Kerwin nodded toward Izmir, who had assumed the shape of a cluster of coppery crystals. “We don’t have any influence on him. Nobody does. He does whatever he wants. We can’t do anything. How could we influence him?”

  “Maybe,” Miranda said, wiping away the residue of a last tear, “maybe he likes us.”

  Seeth let out a derisive hoot. “Yeah, sure, right. The thing likes us. If it wasn’t for that weird blue eye you wouldn’t even be thinking of it as a he. There’s no emo­tion in there. Hell, there’s nothing in there. Just stuff.”

  “How do you know?” she snapped. “I had a gerbil once. His name was Snuffles. People didn’t think Snuffles had any emotions either, but he did. Snuffles loved me and I loved him and it didn’t matter what anybody said.”

  Kerwin just stared at her, which left it to Seeth to respond. He did so, patiently.

  “Honeyhips, Izmir can change his shape and move through walls. He can play ring-around-the-rosy with a spaceship. An Isotat just oh-deed on him. Two gangs to whom the Earth is less than a cigar butt in an ashtray want him bad enough to fight to the death over him, and even they don’t know if he’s any good for anything. A gerbil he ain’t.”

  “Well I think you’re all just, you know, mean.” She walked toward Izmir and stood staring up at him. “I think you’ve all been very mean through all of this by not considering his feelings, if he has any. Not just the Isotat and the Sikan, but the Prufillians and Oomemians and Neanderthals and you guys too. Like, nobody’s given any thought to what he might want.”

  “Izmir doesn’t want anything,” Rail tried to explain slowly. “He doesn’t respond except when he complies with a direction or two. He just—is.”

  “You’re such an expert, Mr. Greenface smarty-pants.” She turned on them. “You all think you’re so smart. How do you know he doesn’t have any feelings?”

  Izmir became a twisting curve, one side mirror-bright, the other jet black. Like the fender of a ‘57 Eldorado, Seeth thought, except for the everpresent blue eye.

  Before anyone could move to stop her, Miranda reached up and ran her hand along the mirrored surface. Nothing happened as she stroked it slowly.

  “What’s he feel like?” Kerwin asked breathlessly, wait­ing for the air to burst into flame around her. “Metal, plastic?”

  “I don’t know. Kinda tingly like.”

  “Cripes.” Seeth made it into a moan of disappointment. “Here I’ve been trying to get her to feel like that for days and she gets turned on by a flying bowling ball.”

  “Your mind,” she told him in disgust, “is always in the gutter.”

  “Along with the rest of me.” Seeth didn’t sound of­fended. “That’s where me and my friends like to hang out. The rent is low, the cops don’t hassle you too much, and nobody bothers about when you filed your last tax return.”

  Miranda now wrapped both arms tightly around the glowing, sparkling fender shape. “I think he’s cute. Maybe he’s just lonely, or unsure of himself. Even unique types can be insecure. Here we’ve been dragging him all over the galaxy and nobody’s ever thought to ask him what he wants.”

  “He won’t communicate, or can’t,” Rail assured her. “I’ve tried.”

  “Yeah? Well what about all that radiation he puts out, huh, what about that?”

  “I don’t know for certain what it is, but I doubt it’s a form variety of communication. That’s why I’ve been so anxious to get him back to Prufillia, where such related phenomena can be properly correctly studied.” He looked gloomy. “Now it appears I will never see my beloved home again.”

  “Doesn’t look real promising for any of us,” Kerwin agreed. “At least we know now that the Isotat were telling the truth when they said they were the good guys. They sure treated us better than these Sikan.”

  “There are two ways of looking at that,” Rail argued. “You could say that the Isotat just ignored us. The Sikan are not ignoring us.”

  Kerwin looked at the blank wall that had opened earlier so disgorge their captors. “I don’t know, but from what I’ve seen of the Sikan so far I think I’d much rather be ignored.”

  “Of course none of you believed that crap about them letting us go if we help them with Izmir.”

  Kerwin turned to his brother. “Why shouldn’t they?”

  “Come on, man! These guys are so powerful we must jcoK like germs to them. You don’t go out of your way to make germs happy. When you’re through studying them you get rid of ‘em.”

  “At least Izmir appears content,” Rail observed, “if it is indeed a sign of contentment.”

  Within Miranda’s grasp the Astarach had become a chain of small, swirling, connected loops. They wrapped themselves loosely around her body. Each loop was a different fluorescent hue: red, orange, green, gold, silver. She wore him like a dress.

  “You all right?” Kerwin asked her, worried that the chain of glowing loops might unexpectedly contract.

  Miranda didn’t appear in the least concerned. “I’m fine. Isn’t he pretty like this?” She did a slow pirouette, model­ing the Izmir dress as if for a gaggle of lunching business­women. “He doesn’t weigh anything at all. In fact, I don’t think he’s touching me anywhere, though I can still feel that tingling sensation.”

  Seeth groaned again.

  “I guess he must like me,” she added.

  “Oh sure,” grumbled Kerwin’s younger brother. “Af­ter all, you don’t project anything toward him. No hostil­ity, no concern, no curiosity, nuthin’. Maybe he’s curious about the one creature nearby with nothing upstairs but air. Unexplored territory, sort of.”

  “Give her a break, musician,” Kerwin warned him. “You’re not doing so hot here yourself.”

  “None of us is doin’ good here.”

  Kerwin turned back to Rail, indicated the far wall. “How long do you think they’ll give us?”

  “No way to know. Much depends I should think on how the battle progresses. For now they must be fully occupied in trying to defeat the Isotat. I wish we knew how the conflict was turning.”

  “Yeah.” Seeth was pacing nervously. “You can’t see nuthin’ in this dump.”
>
  “Our prospects are certainly less than sanguine,” the Prufillian declared. “If the Sikan win, we are doomed. If they begin to lose they will try to destroy everything, lest it fall back into Isotat tentacles.” A faint smile appeared on his manicured face. “I would like to be present to see them try to destroy Izmir. I am not sure he can be harmed by ordinary means.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” said Seeth. “These snails pack more than Saturday night specials and zipguns.”

  Izmir had spread himself thinner, molding himself more tightly to Miranda’s shape while still avoiding actual con­tact. “He makes a neat dress,” she observed, looking down at herself. “I mean, like, you just can’t find colors like this even in the best material. It’s like you’re not wearing anything because you aren’t.”

  “Matter of fact,” Seeth commented thoughtfully, “you aren’t wearing Izmir. He’s wearing you.”

  “Well, whatever. He’s certainly cool and comfortable.”

  “You humans.” Rail was shaking his head. “One of the wonders of the universe and she sees it only in terms of a piece of clothing.”

  “That’s consistent,” Kerwin pointed out. “She sees everything in terms of clothing. So you think that no matter what happens we’ve bought the farm?”

  “Agriculture does not enter into it, friend Kerwin. Oh, I suppose the Isotat might find a way to take us back, though their transport system does not seem to be as efficient as that of the Sikan. But the chance exists, if not the likelihood. At least they are from our own galaxy. The Sikan are true outsiders, in the most extreme sense of the term. I can hardly credit that any race would find Izmir of such interest that they would take the time and effort required to make a transgalactic crossing simply in hopes of studying him.”

  Kerwin was watching as Izmir shifted lazily around Miranda, changing color and form as he did so. “Maybe the Sikan know something we don’t. Maybe Izmir has talents and abilities he hasn’t revealed yet.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” said a new voice quite unexpectedly.

  As unexpected as the presence of a short humanoid figure, which had materialized in the far corner of their cage. He was flanked by two companions, none standing more than three feet high. They were stocky but not squat. One wore a light green three-piece suit, the second shorts and a long-sleeved blue and puce shirt, and the third an outrageously loud, plaid business suit, complete with a wide tie featuring a painted portrait of a nude woman on a shocking purple background.