Glory Lane Read online

  “How are we doing, anyway?” Kerwin pressed him.

  “I am running a final reassurance. The Oomemians can be deceptive as well as direct. They would like nothing better than to convince me I have thrown them off our track before swooping down on us.”

  “You got anything to eat in this dump?” Miranda was standing lazily next to her lounge chair, smacking her gum. “I’m starving.” She extracted a small hand mirror from her purse and began studying her reflection, flipping a perfect blonde curl back into place. “You know, like, no matter what I do, I just can’t get this mascara right.”

  “Nobody looks quite right in slipspace,” Kerwin pointed out helpfully.

  “Yeah, sure, that must be it.” She put the mirror away. “How about that food?”

  Rail’s tentacles were moving feverishly over the con­trols. “At the moment I am more concerned with striving to insure our continued existence.”

  “Me too. I need food to preserve my continued exis­tence.”

  “Oh, all right,” the alien said crossly. “At the back of the room you’ll find a small adjustable headband hanging from the end of a flexible metal support. Strap the band around your forehead, taking care to make sure the contact is tight all the way around, and then touch the blue strip on the wall to the right of the small recess. Think of what you wish to consume. The ship will do it’s best to synthesize the food you’re thinking about.”

  “No shit?” said Seeth.

  “Only if you want it.”

  “Can it synthesize anything else?” There was no mis­taking the eagerness in the smaller man’s voice. “Like, drugs, maybe?’

  “No, only food. What you require would involve the use of the medicinal synthesizer, which is located—“

  “Don’t tell him,” Kerwin said quickly.

  “Hey, get lost, man. Who asked you?”

  “He’s not sick.” Kerwin moved a little closer to Rail. “He’s only interested in getting high.”

  “Ah well, I’m afraid I can’t permit the use of the medicinal facilities for recreational purposes. Besides which, I am not in favor of the effect such chemicals have on the human nervous system.”

  Seeth glared angrily at Kerwin. “Right, Jack. I’ll do you a favor sometime, too.”

  Miranda had strapped the sensing band around her head, and now looked back toward the console. “Do I close my eyes or anything?”

  “That’s not necessary, unless you feel it helps you to focus in on the image.”

  She straightened slightly. “How long until it works?”

  “The machinery will beep when it has received a strong enough image to comply with the request.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes anyway. Kerwin thought it made her look like the sleeping beauty of legend.

  A soft musical tone sounded behind the wall. Miranda blinked and unfastened the strap. The recess in the wall was glowing faintly. There was no protective screen, so Kerwin reasoned that the radiation had to be harmless. Not that anyone with half a brain would go sticking their hands inside, anyway. As the glow faded, the room was filled with a familiar, sharp aroma.

  “That’s more like it.” Miranda reached into the recess and withdrew a large plate piled high with french fried potatoes buried beneath half a pint of ketchup. The recess also yielded a large chocolate malt and, perhaps as an afterthought, a bag of Doritos. Exactly the kind of food that would produce in a normal young human being by­products like fat and acne. The Mirandas of the race, however, were quite immune to such bodily distortions. Kerwin hadn’t the slightest doubt Miranda could survive perfectly well on such a diet, and that neither her face nor figure would suffer in the slightest.

  Since there were no table and chairs, she returned to her lounge seat, sat down, and began munching away happily.

  Kerwin stared in dismay at the high-fat, heavy cholesterol feast. “How can you eat that stuff? It’s nothing but fat and grease.”

  “Fat and grease are very healthy.”

  He turned and gaped at Rail.

  “Oh yes, our nutritionists found out long ago that such saturated fats are vital to the development of intelligence and good health. Grease in particular is most important for the proper development of the cognitive faculties. Why, among my people there are those who are known to take grease pills in hopes of increasing their IQ.”

  “That’s crazy,” Kerwin stammered.

  Miranda delicately wiped ketchup from her full lips. “You think I could get a hot fudge sundae for desert?”

  “An excellent choice,” said Rail approvingly. “Cal­cium and sugar, not to mention the added stimulatory benefits inherent in the chocolate.”

  “Miranda, don’t you think you should have something just a little more sensible?”

  “Hey, who asked you?” Seeth was eying the synthesizer appraisingly. “You’re such a health food nut, what are you gonna conjure up to eat? Sunflower seeds and soya extract?”

  The odor of freshly cut, crisp french fries was overpow­ering. Kerwin found he had to keep swallowing back the saliva. “Uh, no. I was thinking more along the lines of steak, peas and onions, and a baked potato.”

  “Real health food,” Seeth sneered.

  “Okay, and what about you?”

  “Me? I’m not hungry yet. When you don’t have a lot of bucks you learn to get by on a little. Anyway, I ain’t real picky. So long as it’s edible, I’ll be happy. Maybe I’ll try and invent something.”

  The ship lurched sharply sideways and Miranda had to scramble to keep her malt and grease platter intact. Kerwin frowned.

  “That didn’t feel right. Not that I’m really conversant with the way interstellar craft normally perform, but—“

  “Your instincts are correct. It was not right.” Rail’s eyes were scanning a series of blinking strip sections. “We have certainly slipped away from the Oomemians, but in so doing it would appear we have sustained some damage. So I cannot look for another lower-shelf world like Earth. We’re going to have to go somewhere with yard facilities where I can have the damage properly fixed. There are a number of neutral worlds in this quadrant.” A holographic projection appeared above his console and he began studying it thoughtfully.

  “We’ll have to pick the nearest and hope we can remain inconspicuous. The Oomemians have observers everywhere. We’ll just have to cross our zanzees and hope we can duck in, have the repairs made, and get out again before they can locate us.”

  Miranda shrugged, plopped another french fry into her mouth and licked the tomato paste and grease from her perfect fingers. Something about the position of her head struck Kerwin as familiar.

  “Hey, I do know you! I thought that first name rang a bell. You were one of the finalists for homecoming queen last year, weren’t you?”

  She favored, him with a slight smile. “That’s right. So?”

  “You didn’t win. I didn’t understand why you didn’t win. I still don’t. You were much prettier than any of the other finalists. You still are.”

  “Of course I am, but see, like, you have to do this talent thing also. You know. Play an instrument or dance ballet or stand up there and recite a poem or something. Now, I can do all that stuff, but it’s like a drag, you know? Besides, somebody asked me to go skiing that weekend. So it was either the contest or the skiing, and I mean, like, the choice is obvious, isn’t it? I’d always rather go up to Colorado than win some silly old contest. Why? Would you have voted for me?”

  “As many times as possible,” he replied admiringly. “But I wasn’t eligible last year. Only juniors and seniors can vote for homecoming king and queen and I’m still a sophomore. You’re a junior, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s only one year.”

  “No.” She smiled unapologetically. “That’s an eternity.”

  “I guess that means you wouldn’t go out with me if I asked you for a date, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Hey, sister, you’re out with
him now. You’re out with me, too, far as that goes.” Seeth was practicing his leer again.

  She glanced over at him, then back to Kerwin. “If you’re trying to think of this as a date, forget it. I don’t go out with freaks and wimps.”

  “So I’m still in?”

  Seeth looked over at the older man. “Hey, buddy boy, that last appellation was for you, denso.”

  Kerwin frowned at him, looked uneasily back toward Miranda. “Hey, I may not be on the football team, but that doesn’t make me a wimp.”

  “Nothing personal,” she said sweetly. “I mean, he’s a freak,” and she nodded toward Seeth, “and he’s an alien,” a gesture in Rail’s direction, “and he’s a,” she glanced up at Izmir the Astarach, who eyed her curiously out of his single blue eye, “well, nobody knows what he is. And you’re a wimp. It’s nothing to get upset about. Like, we all are what we are.

  “Me, I’m a princess. That’s just the way it is. Prin­cesses don’t go out with freaks, aliens, undefinable things that change their shape, and wimps. They only go out with Prince Charmings.”

  Seeth was picking at his teeth with a ragged fingernail. “Did Prince Charming take you skiing?”

  “You never know if he’s a real Prince Charming unless you try.”

  “Then how do you know I’m not Prince Charming?” Seeth asked her slyly, “or that wimpo Kerwin here ain’t Prince Charming?”

  “Don’t call me that,” Kerwin muttered darkly.

  “Call it instinct,” she murmured. “My perception tells me that neither of you is even half a prince. Like, I think I’d be closer to the mark with Izmir.”

  At this, Izmir let out what sounded like a burble of delight, grew four wings and promptly fluttered wildly around the room, his color changes running through the entire spectrum of visible light, and possibly the invisible as well. It was doubtful if this could be construed as a reaction to Miranda’s comment.

  “At least somebody’s happy.” Seeth nodded toward the plate in her hands. “Think I could have a few of those fries?”

  “Help yourself.” She extended the plate in his direc­tion. “When they’re gone I guess I can always imagine up some more. I want that sundae anyways.” She pushed a bag in Kerwin’s direction. “Want some Doritos?”

  “No thanks,” he replied stiffly. “I think I’ll hold off until I feel like some real food.”

  She wasn’t insulted in the slightest. “Suit yourself.”

  When she and Seeth had finished the fries, she used the synthesizer to produce a double-scoop hot fudge sundae, complete with whipped cream, nuts, cherry, and sprinkled cinnamon and nutmeg, all of which she proceeded to down in a surprisingly short time. Even as he got queasy watch­ing her, Kerwin found time to wonder how her body managed to maintain that magnificent figure on such a diet.

  It was exceedingly unfair, he thought, and he said as much to Rail.

  “Of course it’s unfair. Why would you imagine it other­wise? The universe is profoundly indifferent to individual beliefs and desires and philosophies. On Prufillia we be­lieve generally in Arch Noy Plasna, which, colloquialisms aside, translates roughly as Nothing Gives a Damn. Life is far too brief, existence is meaningless, and the universe has no purpose. That’s the way it is, folks.”

  “Pretty grim philosophy,” Kerwin commented.

  “The universe is a pretty grim place, my young friend. As I think you are having the opportunity to discover. But that doesn’t mean it has to be dull boring. Each of us is here for a comparative instant and then we are gone. The universe doesn’t notice us when we’re here and certainly doesn’t miss us when we’re gone. We’re all nothing but unified arrangements of atoms and particles, drifting around, enjoying consciousness every now and then for a second or so before splitting up to become bits and pieces of trees and stars and french fries.

  “As long as we’re not transformed into energy, those of us who are companion particles continue drifting through the cosmos, enjoying a kind of fragmented immortality, one with the everything. When you clump together, more or less accidentally, it might be as part of a rock or another person.”

  “Or a french fry,” said Seeth as he finished the last of Miranda’s fat-saturated hoard.

  “Somehow, that’s not what I think of when I consider the possibility of reincarnation,” Kerwin muttered uneasily.

  “I’m not talking about reincarnation,” Rail said. “I’m talking about what your component atoms become part of when you cease to exist as an intelligent being.”

  “Hey, he did that when he turned six,” Seeth put in.

  “Blow it out your ear.” Kerwin turned, disconsolate, and walked to the back of the room. Strapping the food synthesizer sensor around his head, he defiantly ordered a banana split.

  Rail glanced back and smiled approvingly. “Now you’re beginning to get the idea.”

  Kerwin dug into the mountainous concoction with blind enthusiasm, relishing every cool, gooey swallow. Even the bananas tasted fresh. He wondered at the sophistication and skill of a civilization that could synthesize something as complex as a banana split simply on the basis of his thoughts. But then, maybe compared to faster-than-light travel it wasn’t so difficult after all.

  “You might want to balance yourselves, please,” Rail told them. Kerwin frantically tried to gulp down the last of the ice cream as he stumbled back toward his seat. “We’re slowing to sublight speed. At least, I hope we are. Be­cause of the damage we incurred while fleeing the Oomemian ships, we might have a problem or two.”

  “Like what?” Kerwin asked uncertainly.

  “Well, when we emerge from the threshold we could possibly break up. For real this time.”

  Seeth began humming nonchalantly, “Breaking up is hard to doooo!”

  6

  Kerwin found himself moaning softly, finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “Will you shut up! Didn’t you hear what he said? We could all die.” His fingers tightened on the sides of the lounge seat.

  “Nonsense.” Miranda followed this completely confi­dent assertion with a very loud belch, looked embarrassed, and added, “We’re not going to die.”

  “Why not? How can you be so sure?”

  She smiled over at him, radiantly beautiful, save per­haps for the slight ketchup smear dribbling from the left corner of her sensuous mouth. “Because I’m not ready to yet.”

  At which point the universe turned upside down. When it and Kerwin’s stomach had righted themselves once more, the view out the port was dominated not by empty space but by the blue, white and brown of an inhabitable world. You didn’t need a degree in astronomy to ascertain imme­diately that it wasn’t Earth. The triple polar ring system, thicker than that of Uranus, was evidence enough of that.

  Just as he was starting to relax, the ship spun wildly. He closed his eyes and swallowed, listening as Rail shouted a

  string of alien obscenities into an audio pickup. More surprisingly, a hidden speaker filled the room with a reply. The tone and words were utterly unintelligible to Kerwin. It sounded more like a buzz saw than a voice.

  This exchange of interspecies insults rose briefly in volume before halting completely.

  “We’re here. We’ve made it,” Rail informed them.

  “Where’s ‘here’?”

  “Nedsplen. A neutral world and a most successful and prosperous one. A pleasant place for those who live here as well as for the harried traveler. You should find the atmosphere and gravity to your liking. A very commercial people, the Nedsplenites. Their world is something of a crossroads for this section of the galaxy. As it’s a logical place for us to visit, we should be on the lookout for Oomemian observers. Still, it’s so busy and active and crowded that, with any luck, we will be able to lose ourselves for a while.”

  Kerwin tried to melt into his seat. The surface was rushing toward them at breakneck speed.

  “No point in heading for one of the suburban ports.” Rail seemed awfully casual about making an approach. �
��As long as we’ve come to an obvious world, we might as well land in the most obvious place.”

  Much to Kerwin’s relief, they finally leveled off, skim­ming a long, shallow sea that formed an enormous harbor or inlet. Then they were flying over forests and agricul­tural regions and, soon after, an endless metropolitan area in which buildings and structures looked like the sucked-out carcasses of insects caught in the spider’s web of transportation lines.

  “The capital city of Nedsplen,” Rail informed them. “Alvin.”

  Kerwin frowned. “The capital city of this important world is called Alvin?”

  “What did you expect? Imperial Realm? Seat of Power?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought—it probably means some­thing important in the Nedsplenian language, right?”

  “As a matter of fact I don’t think it means anything. I have no idea why it’s called Alvin.” He bent over his instruments. “We won’t land at the central port. Too much traffic anyway, and there are plenty of smaller ports scattered throughout the city where we’ll be less conspicu­ous setting down.”

  They came to a halt, hovering several thousand feet up in a parking pattern. While Rail waited for clearance, Kerwin and his companions were able to observe an aston­ishing variety of vessels and aircraft zipping back and forth in front of the port. Off in the distance, towers of metal and plastic and more exotic construction materials rose toward the sky. Despite their already rarified height, sev­eral appeared to still be under construction.

  Rail spoke into his pickup and they began to descend. Slowly, this time. Metallic canyons rose around them, shutting out the sun. Kerwin had been down the Grand Canyon once. This experience was similar, the walls grad­ually closing in around you until even the upper canyon vanished. Except that these walls were artificial. A few minutes later they touched down. Kerwin gratefully freed himself from the restraining field.

  “Feels good to be back on the ground.”

  “But this isn’t the ground. Merely the landing field for this particular port. The actual ground lies far below us. Nedsplen’s an old world, quite built up. Much as new cities were constructed on the foundations of older habitations on your own world, except that here the lowest levels are still in use.”