CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The toga’d gentleman looked puzzled, but the muzzle of his gun persisted in pointing toward Ves’s midsection. “Where did you come from,” he insisted, “and why are you dressed like that?”

“Make it good,” Tatiana Petrovna whispered to Ves, with her body turned away from the Roman couple.

“We came from around the corner,” Ves told the couple, indicating the curve of the observation tower off to the left. “Can’t you get us out of here?” he whispered to the countess.

“Not for ten or fifteen minutes,” she murmured, “then it has to recycle. Keep talking.”

“Around the corner?” the man demanded. “Why are you dressed like that? Aren’t you part of the tour?”

“The tour?” Ves asked. “Which tour is that?”

The man shook his head. “Evidently you’re not,” he deduced.

The bare-breasted young lady pulled at the Roman gentleman’s arm. “Come on, Harry,” she said. “We’ve got to get all the passengers checked in.”

The man shook his head. “They might be dergs,” he said. It sounded like “dergs.”

“They’re not dergs,” the woman said. “Look at them. Come on now, we have to hurry—the dergs are probably halfway up the stairs.”

“We never should have come,” the man said. “I told them it was a poor idea. I don’t know what to do.” He looked at the woman, appealing for help.

“I don’t know,” she said. “And I really don’t care what you do, but do something. We have to get the group boarded and out of here.”

“Damn,” the man said with feeling. “Look,” he waved the pistol at Ves. “What are you two doing here?”

“We were trying to get away from the dergs,” Ves said calmly. “There was nowhere else to go.”

“Ah,” the man said. “Then you’re not dergs?”

“I assure you,” the countess said, “we are not.”

“Look at them,” the Roman lady said. “Now let’s get busy. They’re not dergs. We have a ship to load.”

“You’re right,” the man said. “You must have an interesting story,” he told Ves. “We must talk later.”

“Indeed we must,” Ves agreed.

“Come on, Harry,” the lady said. And she pulled him away, around the bend of the observation tower.

“Dergs?” Ves said.

The countess shrugged. “A totally different world; I’ve never been here before. Ship?”

“How does that happen?” Ves asked. “The totally different worlds, I mean.”

“I can tell you what happens,” the countess said. “But as to how—that can only be expressed mathematically, and I don’t speak the language.”

“Can we go yet?” Ves asked. “The dergs, whatever they are, are getting closer.”

“Patience,” the countess said. “If I push the button too soon it will drain off all the charge being accumulated, and we’ll have to wait all over again.”

“How did we get here?” Ves asked.

“It’s the drift of the parallel worlds,” Tatiana Petrovna said. “As new ones are formed by decision points, the old ones get further apart and their rate of progress through the time stream changes. Occasionally two get far enough apart so that one, which couldn’t be reached before, appears between them when you use the Translator.”

“I don’t understand that at all,” Ves said.

“Regardless, we are here,” the countess said. “Relax and enjoy it.”

“Let’s hope our stay here is brief,” Ves said, flopping onto the wooden bench along the inner wall. “I’d just as soon never find out what a derg is.”

“The dergs,” a high-pitched voice beside him said, “are black and have legs.” Ves jerked around to find a solemn-faced small child in a toga staring at him. The child raced off, his sandals flapping on the tile.

“A great exit line!” Ves called after the child, as he disappeared around the bend.

“Another few minutes and we can try,” the countess said reassuringly. She sat down, unzipped her boots, and pulled them off, revealing a pair of bright red socks. “Must let my feet breathe for a minute,” she said. “Take care of your feet and your feet will take care of you.”

A woman with long blonde hair, wearing a classical Cretan dress, came running around the corner. “Have you seen a five-year-old boy come by here?” she asked.

“He went that way,” Ves said, pointing.

“That boy could get lost in an empty set,” the woman stated, heading off toward where Ves had pointed. A few moments later she came back through, with the boy in tow.

“I think we can try it just about now,” the countess said, wiggling her feet one last time and pulling her boots back on. “You realize the calibration control is meaningless from this location, so I have no idea where we’ll end up.”

“Do you want to wait for the dergs?” Ves asked, shrugging his approval.

“I was just informing you.” Tatiana Petrovna went back to the concealed niche in the wall and opened it.

“Here now,” the Roman with the gun said, coming back around the corner, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Just getting a drink of water,” Ves said at random. “Don’t mind us. Go on with your tour.”

“We can’t have that, you know,” the Roman said. “Close that now!”

Tatiana Petrovna hesitated for a moment, then swung the little hatch closed.

“That’s right,” the man said, “now come along with me. Time is getting short, you know. The dergs are due! Come along, now!” He waved them along with his automatic in a friendly manner.

“Great,” Ves murmured to the countess. “A tour guide with a gun. Where the hell does he think he’s taking us?” A sudden burst of thunderous sound reverberated through the closed room. Ves swung around to see the Roman putting the automatic back in his belt. A great hole was now blasted in the concealed panel to the It. The panel swung open, and little bits and pieces of the device fell out onto the floor.

“Swell,” Ves muttered. “I wonder what he thought he was doing.”

“This may present a problem,” the countess said, looking thoughtful.

The Roman trotted past them. “Come along,” he said. “There’s nothing here for us.”

Ves and the countess followed him around the curve of the observation tower and there ahead of them—on the hundred and fifth floor of the Empire State Building—was the ship: a giant, silver, cigar-shaped dirigible, hundreds of meters long, swinging gondolas the size of ballrooms hung tight against the taut silver belly. The dirigible’s nose was moored to the tower somewhere above them, and from a door in the observation room a flexible tube led to a corridor inside the body of the ship.

The man waited by the door. “Go on, go on,” he urged. “You are the last”

Tatiana Petrovna shrugged. “Might as well, now,” she said. They entered the tube, which was formed of ropes, with aluminum rods for flooring and fabric walls as thin as sausage skins. The aluminum framework corridor inside the dirigible, between the giant gas bags, seemed positively substantial by comparison.

After walking for longer than seemed reasonable, they came to the first ladderway down: straight down, with a sign beside it that said BRIDGE & OFFICERS’ QRTRS RESTRICTED.

A bit beyond that was the next one, marked CREW ONLY. Then the third, which was marked FORWARD ENGINE ROOM—AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

About ten meters further came a spiral staircase, with velvet-covered handrails, labeled FIRST CLASS CABINS AND LOUNGES. “Are we first class?” Ves asked the countess.

“Are we not?” she demanded, and started down the stairs.

They went past two corridors of staterooms before coming to a lounge. The few people they met in the corridors, mostly dressed in Roman garb, treated them with total lack of interest. Given the circumstances, they could only be grateful.

The couches in the lounge were arranged so that you could stare out the portholes, which were angled down for a better view, while sitting comfortably next to your neighbor. Tatiana Petrovna and Amerigo Vespucci settled in a corner of the lounge and watched Manhattan Island recede beneath them. “What do we do now?” Ves asked.

“Humorous,” the countess said. “I was about to ask you the same question. You realize what has happened?”

“What do you mean?” Ves asked.

“The destruction of the It,” she said.

“We’ll just have to wait until we can get away from these people and find another one,” Ves said. “Avoiding the dergs.”

“I don’t know if we can,” she said. “Remember, I told you this world just became accessible to the It. In effect, as far as intertemporal travel is concerned, it just came into existence. There may not be any other Its here yet. It may have come into existence for the It we just used and for no other.”

“Does that happen?” Ves asked.

“I think so. Remember, my group just rides on the coattails of the Primes; we don’t know all the rules yet. But I’ve heard stories.”

“Wonderful,” Ves said. “I wonder how Nate is making out. Does that mean we’re stranded here for good?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” the countess said. “As soon as the potential for coming here exists at the other Its, Primes or others will arrive here by accident, as we did. They will probably leave immediately, but the device will have been established. In another year or so we should be able to locate another It if we persevere. Yes, I should say definitely within a year or two.”

“Wonderful,” Ves said. “If we don’t get eaten by dergs.”

“What are dergs?” the countess asked.

“I asked you first,” Ves said. “What are dergs, and who are these people? What sort of an alternate track are we on?”

“Do you mean that philosophically, my friends,” a rough, gravelly voice behind them inquired, “or is it an actual request for information?” They turned to look. A short man dressed all in black came down the aisle toward them. He had dark, piercing eyes under heavy brows, and a look of great intelligence and compassion. “Welcome aboard the Titanic” he continued, “I was told you were here.”

“The Titanic?” Ves couldn’t help asking.

“True,” the man said. “Her name is wrote large across her prow. One of the Prime Exploration Fleet. Sister ship to the P.E.F.S. Mary Celeste, the Morro Castle, the Kichemaru, the Lusitania, the Normandie, the Andrea Doria; is that ten?”

“No,” Ves said. “Eight, I think—no, seven.”

“Well, at any rate, there are ten of them. Beautiful ships, if you’re partial to aircraft. Again: welcome aboard.” The man waved a hand about loosely. He was wearing a black suit with tight trousers that tucked into high strapped boots, and a jacket with many buttons up the front and a short split tail. His shirt was blue, fringed with lace, and closed at the soft collar with a black string tie. The effect was of sartorial elegance, in an unpressed sort of way.

“I’ve come to find out about you,” the man said, “and to answer your questions, if any; a fair exchange, you must admit.”

“I’m Ves Romero,” Ves said, “and this is the Countess Tatiana Petrovna Obrian. We are your welcome guests. What are dergs?”

“Little mindless beasts wearing flat tin helmets,” the man said. “And that’s about all we know, except that they kill people. Why, we haven’t figured out yet.”

The man sat down facing them. “My name is Colonel Burr, and I’m in charge of this expedition—which is on its way home now with all deliberate speed. You are, of course, welcome to come with us; any other choice would be unthinkable considering the circumstances. Did you enter this world through the Translator on the observation tower? Would you like a cold drink, or coffee or tea, perhaps?”

“Coffee,” Tatiana Petrovna said. “I am very partial to coffee. With cream and sugar, and perhaps the slightest taste of cognac.”

“My pleasure, Countess,” Colonel Burr said. He pushed a small red button over one of the portholes and a steward came scurrying in, his footsteps muted, on the red carpet “Coffee, Wagner, and cognac. A rum toddy for me, and whatever this gentleman wishes.”

The steward looked expectantly at Ves. “Hem,” Ves said. “Er, coffee would be fine. Just coffee. With milk.”

“Very good, sir,” the steward said, and he padded from the lounge on silent feet. He appeared, Ves noted, to be wearing slippers.

“A tradition of the dirigible service,” Colonel Burr said before Ves had a chance to ask. “Felt slippers. Lessens the chance of a spark. Hydrogen is very flammable.”

“Tell me,” the countess said. “If you know about the Intertemporal Translator, then why did you destroy it?”

“To prevent the dergs from using it, of course,” Colonel Burr explained.

“Do the dirigibles use helium now?” Ves asked.

“Afraid not,” Colonel Burr said. “For a variety of reasons. It would require effort on the part of the Primes, which they’re not willing to expend. That’s the main one. The hydrogen does give us ten percent greater lift, and I assure you it’s perfectly safe as long as you’re not careless with bombs or blowtorches.”

“You’re Prime!” the countess yelled as the realization hit her. “Thank God!” She threw her arms around the little Colonel and kissed him on both cheeks. He didn’t appear in the least embarrassed, but clearly enjoyed the demonstration.

“I do apologize,” Colonel Burr said when the countess released him. “I thought you knew, of course, or I certainly would have mentioned it. The Titanic is a Prime ship. The name is their sort of humor. The ship’s captain, Captain Herrington, and most of his officers are Prime. I myself, and most of my men, are expatriates, or refugees if you prefer.”

“You’re not any relation to Aaron Burr, are you?” Ves asked suspiciously.

“My dear sir, I am indeed a very close relation to Aaron Burr,” the colonel said, “being the gentleman himself.”

“Well,” Ves said. “This is an honor, sir, a real honor.” He shook Colonel Burr’s hand firmly. “I’ve been searching for you.”

“Do tell,” Colonel Burr said cautiously. “And now you’ve found me. I trust you hold neither a warrant nor a subpoena, and I warn you I shall not be extradited.”

“Neither,” Ves said. “As far as I know, my interest in you is purely friendly. I have an interesting story to tell you, in return for some information you may be able to give me.”

“I like stories,” Burr said, settling down into his chair. “Commence!”

“Wait a second,” Tatiana Petrovna said. “First of all, where are we, and how are we to get back to Prime?”

“We are floating in mid-air over Terra Incognita, which land in another world would be known as New Jersey. We return to Prime Time by flying to the congruence of certain magnetic lines of force, as I understand it, where our captain shall push a button or connect a lever or screw a knob and we shall be translated.”

“Why are you here?” Ves asked.

“An expedition,” Colonel Burr said. “Only not in the grim, serious terms in which we usually think of the word. More like a picnic for the Primes—they expected no trouble in this new land. It’s in a sector, apparently, where they have the patterns of change very well mapped.”

“What happened?” Ves asked.

Colonel Burr shook his head. “The dergs,” he said. “They’re about three feet high, and seem to have but slight individual intelligence, like ants. But they get their orders from somewhere—probably the tin helmets. They kill people. Perhaps they eat them, we don’t know. We think they are not from this planet.”

“If it happened here, will it happen elsewhere?” Ves asked. “I mean, on other time-lines?”

Burr shrugged. “There’s no sign of it,” he said. “On this time-line it’s nineteen thirty-five, or thereabouts. If your time is past nineteen thirty-five, I guess you’re safe. We’ll have to research it, if the Primes let us.”

“Isn’t it in their interest?” Ves asked.

“You’d think so,” Burr said. “But they’d find it easier to interdict the whole area. Very conservative about their time-lines, are the Primes.”

The steward padded softly back into the room and distributed the drinks. Then he padded out again.

“Your health,” Colonel Burr said, raising his glass formally. “And yours, Countess.” He sipped. “And now that story you were about to tell me…”

“Did you sign the Constitution of the United States?” Ves asked.

Burr looked at him strangely. “No, sir,” he replied. “I was in New York at the time. The Constitution was drawn up and signed by the framers in Philadelphia. The document came down more strongly for a centralization of powers than I would have liked.”

“Would you have signed it?” Ves asked.

“I wasn’t asked,” Burr snapped. But then he looked thoughtful, holding his thumb alongside his nose and staring off into space for a while. “I would have changed it if I could,” he said, “in some small detail. But I could have signed it as it stood, with honor and pride.”

“You did, Colonel, you did,” Ves told him.

“How’s that?”

“In one of these alternate time-tracks, Aaron Burr signed the Constitution of the United States in the space that is otherwise filled by Alexander Hamilton.”

“With no changes?” Burr asked. “I had so little influence? Ah, well… Does Hamilton know? It would crush poor Alex’s heart if he were to hear. How do you know?”

Ves told the full story of the exchanged Constitution, and the events that had resulted from that. Burr sipped his drink slowly, his eyes veiled by some secret thoughts; but Ves never doubted that he heard and weighed carefully every word. Burr was an excellent listener: there was no doubt but that he cared, and that he took every word as seriously as you did yourself. When you finished telling Burr about a problem, you felt relieved; he cared, he listened, he asked intelligent questions, and surely the problem was now halfway to being solved. Ves felt this very strongly as he talked to Colonel Burr; it was an aura the Colonel projected. Ves knew that it was projected because it was true.

Ves would not have imagined that telling his story would take very long, but under the impetus of Burr’s skillful questions, an hour had passed before he had brought Burr up to date.

Burr spoke not a word for a long while after Ves had finished talking, but sat and stared out the port and sipped what was now his second rum toddy. Finally he shook his head sadly. “The implications are broad,” he said, “and not altogether pleasant for me. It brings a complex pattern into view—I shall have to think on it.”

“Any light you can shed on my problem would be appreciated,” Ves said.

“Oh, yours,” Burr said. “I presume you mean the theft of your Constitution. No problem there. Only a limited number of choices; the task will be sorting them out to the right one. Then, of course, there’ll be the problem of recovering the document after we establish who has it. But I’m sure something will present itself.”

Burr drummed his fingers on the small table by his chair. “No, it’s not the actual theft which concerns me,” he said. “It’s the implications in their choice of objects, and what that may mean to Hamilton and me.”

“I’m sorry,” Ves said, “I don’t think I understand.”

“We’re fetish objects, you realize,” Burr said. “Because of our involvement with one of the major branch-points in their parallel worlds, the Primes treat Hamilton and me somewhere between honored guests and minor deities. That’s why Hamilton can set up his own little colony on an alternate world and maintain his network of informants on twenty others with no bitching from them. That’s why I’m allowed free access to any of these exploration trips—even to the point of letting me head an occasional one so they can get some useful work out of what I’m going to do anyhow.”

“Then this is what you do?” Ves asked.

“As often as possible,” Burr said. “I also read a lot. Imagine having two hundred and fifty years of literature suddenly thrust at you. That alone should keep me busy for a while.”

“I would imagine,” Ves said.

“Have you read Charles Dickens?” Burr asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“The Old Curiosity Shop, Great Expectations, Cowber Limited, Oliver Twist… Have you read Lewis Carroll?”

“I have.”

“My enthusiasms bore you?”

“Not at all. Two of my favorite authors.”

“Yes. Imagine being born too early to have read either in your lifetime. Truly a tragedy. A true tragedy.”

“I never thought of it that way before,” Ves said.

“Certainly,” Burr said. “Think of Jabberwocky. What would life be like without Jabberwocky? Or Father William:

You are old, said the youth, and your limbs are unstable

And your hands are incessantly shaking

Yet you dance down the length of the dining room table

Without any crockery breaking.”

“I don’t think I know that verse,” Ves said.

“Alternate universe?” Burr asked. “You might have an entire alternate version of Alice to read. Think of that!

I’m sorry that bothers you, William said to his ward,

I do it to pleasure my dates.

When next I assay a gavotte on these boards,

I’ll endeavor to step on the plates.”

“I think I prefer the one I’m familiar with,” Ves said.

“It’s the possibility of choice that makes it so interesting,” Burr said. “But now I must get back to my duties, such as they are. Make yourselves comfortable in here. I’ll have some food sent in. We must speak further when we arrive at Prime.”