Jay Caselberg - Jack Stein - The Startablet

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headed up the steps.
Inside there was a small lobby covered with notice boards, just as he would have expected. A
glassed-in reception desk sat dead in front—unattended. He glanced down the corridors left and right,
hesitating. Should he just wander in? There was nothing else for it. As he turned into the corridor to the
right, he noticed gold-lettered signs hanging from the ceiling, and he followed them down, reading them
one by one. Right toward the end he found the one he was looking for, and he entered. Another long
corridor stretched before him, doorways with signs on them announcing who or what lived within.DR .A
.ALBUS …DEMONSTRATION LAB1…SEMINAR ROOM…DR.H .ANTILLE —he paused for a
moment at that door—DR.K .FRANCIS …PROF.J .LEAMING . He followed down one side of the
corridor, stopping at the door at the end.RESEARCH LAB 1. No luck. There were no sounds either.
He worked his way up the other side, finally located the door that saidDR .A .HEERING , and paused
outside and thought for a moment. The urge to investigate had returned. Maybe he should just take a
quick look at Antille’s office.
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He took ten steps back down the corridor and opened the door. It was a small office with two desks. A
comfortable leather chair sat behind the larger of the two, and books and journals sat in profusion on
shelves behind. Pictures of various bits of stone and artifacts were pinned up all over the walls. A pair of
screens sat on each desk, their displays lifeless for now. Jack took a step inside, his senses alert, seeking
some trace of Antille or Billie in the cluttered empty office. He was just feeling a slight stirring deep in his
abdomen, the tug that gave him direction toward something that he could use as a psychic cue, when a
voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Hey. You. What are you doing there?”
Jack turned slowly. A pale-faced young man with thin dark hair stood in the corridor, his hands shoved
into the pockets of a white coat, a nondescript shirt and trousers on underneath.
“Um, nothing,” said Jack. Good opener, Stein. “I was looking for Dr. Heering.”
“Well, you won’t find him there. This is not his office.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, well, it didn’t seem like anyone was at home in Dr. Heering’s office.”
“No, of course not,” said the young man. “Dr. Heering is in the labs. I am his assistant. And you are?”
“Sorry,” said Jack. “I’m Jack Stein. If you can take me to Dr. Heering…”
The young man looked Jack up and down skeptically. “And you want to see Dr. Heering…?” He let the
words trail off.
“Because heasked me to come and see him,” said Jack pointedly.
The assistant gave Jack another suspicious look, and then turned reluctantly, beckoning him to follow
down to the end of the corridor.
Damned if Jack was going to give him the pleasure of offering up any more information than that.
Behind the door stretched a long laboratory, one that Jack had seen before. This was the place where
he’d dreamed Antille, seen him with the artifact, seen the machines. He paused for a moment, adjusting
as dream memory was suddenly overlapped with reality. The young man was standing at the door,
waiting for Jack to pass, and he cleared his throat.
“Right,” said Jack. The long, low benches, the lights hanging over them, the pieces of archeological
artifacts were all too familiar.
“Dr. Heering is over there.”
Jack nodded and walked to the end of the lab. Heering’s assistant stood at the open doorway,
watching.
Jack made the connection; the young man had every right to be suspicious, what with the Outreach
activities concerning the artifact in the first place, but that had been almost two years ago now. Outreach
had made concerted attempts to “acquire” the tablet, as had the questionable group the Sons of Utrecht.
People attached to this particular department would have taken the brunt of most of that. Did the
suspicion last that long? Or perhaps there had been other incidents since then.
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He recognized Heering from the call immediately.
“Dr. Heering?”
The owl-eyed face looked up at him, blinking rapidly, dragging its attention from a piece of stone sitting
in front of him on the bench. Heering frowned.
“I’m Jack Stein.”
Heering drew his breath in quickly and then seemed to hold it. “Yes. Of course you are. I am Aaron
Heering. You came sooner than I had thought you would.”
“So what’s this about Antille and Billie? And where is everyone?”
Heering paused and then waved his assistant away. The young man lingered at the doorway for a few
moments, then nodded slightly and withdrew.
“Of course,” said Heering. “I understand you are anxious.” He draped a cover over the piece of stone
and stood. “We had better go to my office. You are right: There is no one around, but it is vacation time
right now, between semesters. All the students are away, and many of the staff take this opportunity to
have a break as well. I, on the other hand, have pressing research to continue, and Donnelly there is
assisting me in my work. That’s the reason we are here, but you never know who might just pop in. It
will be better to talk in my office.”
Jack wondered briefly what Heering was working on, but then decided that it probably wouldn’t mean
anything to him anyway, and the doctor seemed eager to get him to follow away from the lab.
Heering’s office was much more ordered than Antille’s. Neat stacks of paper and journals sat boxed on
the shelves. The desk was clear. Heering indicated a seat, waiting before shutting the door.
“You don’t look very much like your niece,” he said slowly. “There is not much family resemblance.”
Jack frowned. “And what’s so unusual about that? We come from different sides of the family.” He
found the instant suspicion interesting. “Look, what do you want me to say? You’re the one who
suggested I come. Remember? Now it’s my turn to make a suggestion. Tell me what’s going on. Where
are Billie and Antille?” He leaned forward in his chair, his jaw set.
“I’m not so sure that I can do that, Mr. Stein. Your concern seems genuine, but how do I know that I
can trust you?”
Jack got to his feet then and took a step forward. “Of course it’s damned well genuine. Listen, Heering,
you’d better start telling me what’s happened to Billie….” He could feel the anger and frustration growing
in him like the filling of a well.
Heering lifted a hand. “Threatening behavior will get you nowhere, Mr. Stein.”
Jack took a deep breath and sat slowly back down. “I’m waiting.”
Heering nodded and spoke, almost as if to himself. “You do seem worried about them.”
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“Look,” said Jack. “Why do we have to go through this shit? We’ve established that. I was involved
with Hervé Antille in that whole Landerman affair. He must have told you about it. Billie was there with
me on Mandala. It’s because of us that those bastards were taken off Antille’s back. Since then, I think
they might have left you guys alone. Alone to get on with your ‘pressing’ research. Or am I wrong?”
Heering pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, looking down at the floor. “I keep
fairly well to myself. We have work to do here, but yes, Dr. Antille may have mentioned something of
that sort. It is true, we are working on similar avenues. Our paths clearly…how do you say…overlap.”
Jack sighed, barely managing to keep his impatience under control.
“All right. I just can’t be too careful,” said Heering, and finally took the chair opposite. “Let us begin.”
If Jack didn’t know better, he would have thought that Heering was gearing up for the start of a lecture.
Four
Jack leaned forward in his chair, a feeling of nervous chill deep in his gut as Heering started to speak.
The archeologist held his fingers steepled in front of him and gazed into the middle distance through and
over them, his wide eyes unfocused.
“Dr. Antille has been doing some startling work with the alien artifact. You know all about the artifact,
obviously. And quite frankly I’m rather jealous. Significant progress. I, myself, have been working on
pieces from another site—one we believe is related—but Dr. Antille’s progress has been outstanding. He
received some research help, I believe, from the young woman. She’s quite talented, you know.”
Having Billie referred to as a young woman was a little strange in Jack’s ears. He still thought of her as a
girl. She hadn’t even been twelve when he’d first met her, but now? Was sixteen a young woman?
Heering didn’t wait for any response. “Dr. Antille believed he had found the correct mappings to be
derived from the symbols on the artifact’s surface. Clearly he could not release these results until he’d
done more investigation to verify his assumptions. And, of course, there is nothing to cross-reference
against.”
Heering spread his hands. “So there you are,” he said.
“Where am I?” said Jack. “I don’t get it.”
“Empirical observation,” said Heering. “It’s the only true way to test a theory.”
“I’m sorry, I…”
Heering sighed. “He had to test the calculations. The only way to do that is to verify that they worked.
How else could he confirm his results?” There was a hint of exasperation in Heering’s voice now. “Of
course, he was virtually convinced that he was right, and I believe he had good reason to be so, having
looked in detail at his findings. But that was about two weeks ago now.”
Jack frowned. “Test the results? How?”
“By using them, of course,” Heering said. “He had to use them in an actual demonstration. Thought
experiments are well and good, but truth lies in the practical application of the theory. If they pointed the
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way to the alien homeworld, then he had to go to the alien homeworld and see. It should have been quite
easy. He just had to use the coordinates in reverse to return home, or so we believed….”
Jack picked up on thewe and noted it. Heering was far more deeply involved than he was letting on.
“Of course, the university has access to some ships provided by our sponsors. He had to use one of
them, because obviously the drive is essential. That goes without saying. One cannot make a jump
without a jump drive.”
“And he took Billie with him?!” Jack was out of the chair again.
“I believe so.”
“Shit.”
Jack rubbed his cheeks with one hand, pressing his lips together, thinking fast. “Shit,” he said again.
“How could he…Never mind…” He shook his head. Nothing would stop Billie going with him. Nothing
at all. Once she had her mind made up…
“And there’s been no sign of them since?”
Heering slowly shook his head. “Not a…how do you say?…peep.”
“Damn.” Jack paced over to the window and looked out over drab, featureless walls. Blank as his
thought processes right now. “I have to go after them. That’s the only way.” How the hell was he going
to do that?
He spun to face Heering again. “I’m going to need your help. Hervé must have taken notes, right? Must
have recorded what he was working on. You said you’d checked his findings. Do you have access to
them?”
Heering was watching Jack pace back and forth with an interested expression, as if he might be
observing some intriguing research subject.
“Dr. Heering!”
“What? Oh, yes…I probably do. Dr. Antille entrusted backup copies of his work to me. But I don’t
know what—”
“What else? I’m going to need a ship. But how the hell do I get a ship out here? Christ. In this
goddamned anal place, there are going to be rules and regs, aren’t there. How the hell do I get a ship in
Balance City?”
He had to think this through. Billie was out there somewhere, maybe on the other side of the universe for
all he knew, and there was no way even to get in touch with her. Or was there?
“Is there any sort of communication with this ship?”
Heering blinked. “Quite impossible. Conventional communication means would be impractical anyway.
The ship would likely be back before any message sent from it would arrive. Subspace communication is
well and good in the appropriate circumstances, but the distances involved…Do you not think we would
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have been in touch if we could have?”
Think, Jack. Think.
He had to use what he knew.
“I’m going to need access to Antille’s office, see if there’s something there I can use.”
Heering looked at him quizzically. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’m a detective, Dr. Heering. A psychic detective.Psychic. Get it? There may be something there of
Antille’s or Billie’s that will help. Work with me.”
“All right. All right. There’s no need to raise your voice.”
“I’m not…dammit.” Jack took a deep breath. “All right. Can we go to Antille’s office now?”
“If you think it might help. It is essential that Dr. Antille is returned safely. His work is important. If you
knew the true implications of his findings…” Heering stood. Jack was out the door before him and down
the corridor toward Antille’s office.
Jack couldn’t care less about Antille or the importance of his findings. Billie was what really mattered.
Again, Jack paused at the doorway of Antille’s office, but this time Heering hovered behind him,
watching with a kind of detached interest.
Taking a slow step inside the cluttered room, Jack reached within himself, seeking that pull, that tautness.
Nothing. He took a slow, calming breath, held it, and then let it out just as slowly, seeking the balance
that would release his inner senses.
“Mr. Stein—”
Jack thrust a hand up for quiet, and Heering subsided.
Concentrate, Jack. He knew he had felt something when he’d been in here before. It had come from the
direction of the desk he presumed was Billie’s. He turned his focus toward that side of the room. There!
He felt the pull. One step, two, and he narrowed his senses, feeling for the thing that was creating the
spark. He had it. A small stone shard lay on a pile of drawings, holding them in place. Tentatively he
reached for it, dreading the rush, but as his fingers made contact there was nothing more than a slight
tingling sensation at his fingertips. It meant he would have to work with the piece, see if he could get it to
give up its secrets.
“I’m going to need to take this with me,” Jack said, looking back over his shoulder at Heering.
Heering frowned and gave a slight shrug.
Taking the shard and placing it deep in his pocket, Jack concentrated again, refining his senses further,
reaching out to the room. He could feel faint traces, markers of Billie’s presence, probably Antille’s too,
but there was nothing strong enough to draw him closer. The piece of stone in his pocket was there,
present, pulling against his awareness, but he blocked it, shutting it out from what he felt from the rest of
the office.
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“That’s it,” he said finally with a sigh.
“So tell me what you have found,” said Heering.
Jack turned slowly to face him. Heering wasn’t a client, but he was the closest thing he had to a client
right now, and to be fair, the academic was proving useful. He rolled out the rehearsed explanation. “No,
it doesn’t always work like that. That piece has something, but I don’t know what it is. Energies seem to
accumulate in certain objects, and either they give me cues immediately or I have to dig deeper. I’m
going to have to work with this one.”
“Energies?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how else to explain it. Marks of events, people, that sort of thing. Power finds its
way into surrounding objects. Sometimes it’s the rooms themselves; sometimes, like this one, it’s an
individual object. For some reason I can read them, pull clues out of those energies and work with them.”
“So it is imprecise?”
“Oh, you bet it’s imprecise. As I said, I have to work with them. Sometimes that means putting a whole
lot of different clues together to come up with a complete picture. If I’m lucky, then they all work
together. Otherwise…”
“I see.”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “Now, what about these notes?”
“We will need to go back to my office.”
Jack nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He followed Heering back up the corridor. Just before they reached the door, Jack had another thought.
“What about the artifact itself?”
Heering stopped and turned, looking troubled. “I do not know.”
Jack frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I do not know where it is.”
“How can you not know? Antille was working on the damned thing, wasn’t he? You have to have some
idea where he would have kept it.”
Heering shook his head. “Dr. Antille was very careful about the object. After all the trouble we had with
it…Well, you understand.”
Jack did understand. The artifact itself had already been the cause of a couple of deaths, and very nearly
his own. At least two separate groups had enough interest in the thing to involve large sums of money and
complete disrespect for anyone who might get in the way. Antille was probably wise to have stashed it
somewhere, but it did little to help Jack’s current dilemma.
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“Fine. I’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got.”
Heering nodded and stood back to let Jack walk into the office before him. Heering followed, closing
the door quietly behind him. He stood with his back to the door, watching Jack with that detached
scrutiny, looking as if he were waiting for Jack to do something.
“What is it?” said Jack.
“Perhaps you will find something here?” said Heering.
“Oh, I get it,” said Jack. “What do you want to do? Test me or something? It doesn’t work like that.
Now, can we get on with it?”
Heering looked disappointed, but nodded and stepped into the room, taking up the seat in front of his
desk. He pulled out a keyboard from a compartment just below the surface and tapped a couple of keys.
The screen sparked into life. Jack was still having difficulty coming to terms with this old technology. In
some ways Utrecht was completely modern; in others…
“I have the items under a strong encryption routine. It will take a few minutes for the material to unpack.”
Jack took a seat and sat back, prepared to wait. Whatever Antille had passed on to his colleague was
crucial. Jack knew that much.
While he was waiting, Heering tapped another couple of keys and started scanning other notes on the
screen. Jack could make little sense of what he could see over the archeologist’s shoulder.
A good five minutes later, a small bell-like tone came from the screen, and Heering turned to beckon
Jack forward. “Here we are.”
Jack crossed and peered over his shoulder, standing just behind him. On the screen was a page of
notes. It was a picture of an actual page, handwritten formulae and arcane symbols spread across it.
Heering hit a key and another image replaced the first, then another and another.
Nothing. There was nothing there Jack had a hope of understanding. “How am I supposed to work with
this?” he said.
“Perhaps if we go to the end,” said Heering. He hit another couple of keys and the images flicked past
one after the other, finally stopping on a single page. “These are the concluding notes. Most of the
previous pages relate to explanation and the steps to reach those conclusions with some background
material. I believe this page relates to the coordinates that Dr. Antille believes will lead to the relevant
world.”
Jack squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It contained line after line of what looked like formulae.
Whatever information the page contained, it was completely opaque to him.
“Dammit. It’s useless. I don’t know anything about astronavigation. What am I supposed to do with
this?”
He stood straighter, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
“I suggest you find someone who does,” said Heering.
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“You said you’d looked at the conclusions. Why can’t you help?”
Heering shook his head. “I have looked at the translations and the derived projections. I too know very
little about astronavigation, Mr. Stein. I know about deriving the relevant formulae and coordinates, but
to actually put them to practical use…I am a theoretician.”
Great. The true academic in the ivory tower.
“And how exactly am I supposed to find someone who can help? Here? I need a ship and I need
someone who can navigate it. I’m sorry, but I didn’t see much evidence of anywhere I was likely to find
that in Balance City.”
Heering spun his chair slowly to face Jack.
“As above, so not below,” he said.
“Huh?” Jack looked down at him blankly.
“I thought that would have had relevance for you, Mr. Stein,” said Heering, a slight smile for once
appearing on his lips.
“I don’t get it.” He remembered some phrase like that, but he couldn’t see the connection.
Heering continued to look amused. “Your niece spoke often about the notes, the ancient alchemical texts
that you had used on a previous case. Being, as you are, a psychic investigator, I thought that phrase
might mean something to you. As above, so below…”
That was what it was. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before. What of it?”
“I am sorry,” said Heering, the smile slipping away. “It was my little joke. Balance City is not all as it
seems. Clearly you have seen only the surface levels. There are levels below. It is quite different down
there. I suggest you go back and investigate the lower regions. You might just find what you are looking
for.”
Damn. Of course. That was why he hadn’t seen any shops or facilities in the city. All of them were out of
sight in the lower levels. He should have remembered the way the city grew downward as well as up.
He’d seen it clearly enough on the way in, but his mind had been on other things.
“But can’t you help at all?” asked Jack.
“I am sorry,” said Heering. “Transportation is not my area of expertise. If you want to engage in space
travel, I suggest you find someone who knows about such things. I truly cannot help you.”
Jack grimaced. Heering was right, of course. “Okay, I’m going to need a copy of that page, if it contains
what you say it does.” He pulled out his handipad. “Can you send it to me?”
Heering looked troubled. “I’m not sure that I can—”
“Dammit, Heering. I need that stuff.”
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“But I cannot do that. I don’t think we are equipped for that. The best I can do is give you a print of the
page.”
“A print?”
“Yes, a reproduction on paper.”
Paper? “Damn,” breathed Jack. This place was full of anachronisms. Back home, a reproduction on
paper would cost a fortune.
He nodded slowly. “There’s one last thing, Dr. Heering.”
Heering looked up. “Yes?”
“I need access to the rooms where Billie was staying. I need to see if there’s anything of hers that I can
use.”
Heering pursed his lips and shook his head slowly.
“What?” asked Jack.
“I would have no idea about where the young woman was staying. It is unlikely we could find anyone to
assist in that at the moment. The accommodations are not very well attended at this time of year. I’m
afraid to do so would take some time, and there’d be explanations and authorities.”
Of course there would. This was Utrecht. Jack sighed. “Okay, it was a thought.”
Heering nodded his understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Five
All the way back on the shuttle, Jack was turning options over in his mind. Despite what Heering had
told him, he thought it doubtful that he’d find what he needed in the lower levels of Balance City. He’d
seen what sort of people lived here already. Regardless of their little party time, there were the marks of
rigidity everywhere. The sort of person he’d need would be a little freer than the mind-set that pervaded
the upper reaches. He just couldn’t imagine that it would be so much different.
Maybe he should call for help, but he couldn’t think who there might be whocould help. Typical. He’d
rushed into this without thinking things through. Billie was missing, and here he was charging in like some
ancient knight in armor, except he didn’t have a horse, he didn’t have a weapon, and he didn’t quite
know where he was going.
He reached into his pocket and reassured himself with the crinkle of paper shoved into his pocket. It
was thinly coated with some sort of protective gloss, it was true, but that would protect it for only so
long. He’d just better not lose it in the meantime. If he was lucky, he might be able to find some way to
transfer it to the handipad, but everything he’d seen of Utrecht so far made him doubt that. Next to the
paper sat the small stone shard. He felt the tingle as his fingers brushed its edge. He hadn’t had time to
look at it properly, and he didn’t want to yet—not until he was in the sort of setting he needed. The hotel
room wasn’t ideal, but it was close enough to what he wanted. He could set the door toDO NOT
DISTURB and then see what he could get out of the stone itself.
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The wind farm distracted him for a few minutes, the giant blades turning, flashing with light, the lines of
white support poles stretching on to infinity. In unison, all along the lines, the small green and red lights
continued to blink. It must be a bizarre sight late at night from the other side. A wall of winking colored
eyes staring back at you. There was only one word for it: alien.
Funny that he should think of that particular word. Alien. That was what it was all about—the hunt for
the alien homeworld, if it was the homeworld. Jack had had previous dream contact with these strange
beings, or at least it was possible that he had. He had dreamed them, and in some way, devoid of
speech, they had communicated with him. Silvery bodies and featureless cylindrical shafts that led to
whatever sensing faculties these creatures had. For all he knew they had been a mere construction of his
subconscious mind, filling in strange details to make up for the void of his own experience. Well, maybe
Billie and Antille knew the truth of it now. That was where they’d gone—seeking the homeworld. There
was no way he could tell on his own.
Mercifully there was no one else on the shuttle on the way back in. Nor was there any sign of his
erstwhile fellow passenger, which gave Jack some comfort. What Heering had said about being between
semesters was working to his advantage. It was only a small thing, but a good thing all the same. These
stuffy Utrechtians made him distinctly ill at ease.
And he was back to thoughts about how he could possibly find what he needed in this place. An entire
people who used one day in the year to break free from their cultural rigidity. That was what Festival was
all about. It had to be. Then there was the whole experience with the officials when he came in, and yet
they’d allowed him to buy his way out of the situation. There was a contradiction there, but not one that
he was equipped to puzzle out right at the moment. And Billie—Billie with her complete distaste for
authority—how the hell had she put up with it for so long? Two and a half months wasn’t too much time,
but for Billie…
Damned if he knew what his place was as far as Billie was concerned.
Here he was on a foreign world, completely out of touch with his people and customs and devoid of his
regular contacts. Anyone he could have possibly approached was days, weeks away, and he doubted
they had the skills he needed anyway. He didn’t move with pilots and navigators. Most of his contacts
were strictly ground-based. It looked like he would just have to make do with what he had himself.
He sat back to watch miles and miles of empty brown fields slip by as the shuttle headed back into the
city.
Fifty minutes later he stepped back into the hotel lobby, only now really noticing the contrast from the
previous evening. The wide leather sofas and small chintzy tables and chairs were virtually unoccupied. A
local businessman was sitting on one of the couches. Jack knew he was a local. The bright green suit and
purple shoes gave it away immediately. Jack nodded in the man’s direction, but he was fixedly ignored.
Shuffling around in his pocket, he retrieved the map given to him by the girl at reception and headed for
the front desk. Another young woman stood there, smile slipping into place automatically.
“Yes, sir. May I be of some assistance?”
“Um, yes,” said Jack, as he spread the map out on the desk between them and smoothed out the
crumpled paper with the flat of his hand. “One of your colleagues gave me this map yesterday, but it
doesn’t seem to have everything I need.”
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“I don’t understand, sir. What are you looking for?”
“I can’t see any shopping facilities. Other things. Where would they be?”
The young woman blinked a couple of times, then smiled again. “The hotel shop has many things you
might need. Anything else you can order through the hotel system and it will be delivered to your room.
Perhaps there’s something I can help you with.”
He wondered if there was some way of cutting through this shit. “Look, have you got a map of the lower
levels, please?”
The smile slid away. “It is not recommended that visitors to Balance City visit those areas. We can
accommodate all your needs here.”
Jack shook his head. “No, not good enough. Have you got a map or don’t you?”
The receptionist pursed her lips. “Yes, we have such a map.”
“Well, can you give me one, please?”
Her expression became even more severe, disapproving, but she ducked below the desk and came up
bearing a folded glossy piece of paper. Jack slid it from her grasp and proceeded to unfold it on the
desk. It had several interconnected leaves. Jack examined the first. A large empty space, vaguely oval in
shape, sat at the center, what Jack presumed must be the central spire upon which Balance City was
built, and all around the edges of it were districts marked out in different colors. He flipped over to the
next page. Another level was shown, again with the central blank space, but this time the level’s diameter
was smaller. Again, color-coded regions spread out from the central oval, but not covering as much area.
Flipping rapidly through the remaining pages, he found similar maps, each decreasing in size until the last
and smallest one. Each one had a written key along the outside edge, and grid references. He folded it
roughly back up and slipped it away in his pocket.
“Thank you,” he said.
She merely nodded.
“I don’t suppose you have a digital version of this?”
A flicker of a frown and she shook her head, her face still registering disapproval.
“No, I didn’t think so.”
He could feel her watching him all the way to the elevators.
“Damned stupid tourist,” she was probably thinking to herself, but why anyone would want to come to
Balance City as a tourist for any possible reason escaped Jack for the moment. As the elevator doors
slid shut, Jack noticed the parrot-clothed businessman watching him too. He allowed himself a wry grin
as the elevator climbed toward his floor. So Jack Stein was the odd one out. Okay. He could live with
that.
Back in his room, he shrugged off his coat and hung it on a hook behind the door, reaching into the
pockets to retrieve both maps, the paper covered in calculations given to him by Heering and the small
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stone shard. Pressing the indicator to be sure he wouldn’t be disturbed, he dropped all but the stone
shard on the small table and drew the curtains. The power from the fragment still tickled at his fingers,
which gave him some comfort. The object’s importance hadn’t been an illusion. Stripping off his trousers
and shirt, he moved to the bed, lowered himself to lie in the center on his back, cupped the stone piece
between his hands in the middle of his chest, and began his relaxation routine, maintaining concentration
on what he held while his breathing slowed. He had none of his tools here, the inducer pads, the sterile
surrounds—he’d just have to trust that he could force himself into sleep state with his practiced
techniques. He had to be able to force the dream and control it rather than just let it happen.
Little by little, Jack felt himself start to drift down through alpha, deeper. Awareness started to slip away,
gently rocking him into the edge between wakefulness and dreaming. The stone, he thought. The stone.
Billie. Concentrate on Billie, on Antille. He conjured their images in his mind, trying to link them to the
stone chip held warmly between his palms.
There was light. Blue-white light picked out details of a familiar landscape. Jack stood in a pretty field,
squinting against the glare. Grass, wild and tangled, sprinkled with tall wildflowers, stretched out toward a
low hill in one direction, and what he presumed were trees in the other. They didn’t look like trees, but
they grew out of the ground and were clustered together. In place of trunks, four large branches stuck
into the ground, and they were slick, reflecting back the bright light. A single spire reached skyward on
each one, making it look like a cluster of framed cathedrals. The air carried a tang. Jack wrinkled his
nose. It was a bit like old sweat. He turned slowly, looking for some clue that might tell him where he
was. Which way was he supposed to go? He thought about heading for the trees, but there seemed to be
nothing prompting him to go in that particular direction. For a moment he tried willing himself upward, but
in this instance he seemed confined to the ground. No flying here. Pity. With a shrug, he started walking
in the direction of the low hill.
As he neared, a figure crested the rise, silhouetted with glare so he could not make out the features. He
stopped walking and waited. The figure stood at the top of the rise, seeming as though it were looking
down at him. Jack couldn’t quite tell. The figure started down the gentle slope and gradually grew more
distinct. It was a man, and as he drew closer Jack could see exactly who it was. Carl Talbot was heading
down the hill in his direction, wearing a pale suit and half-open shirt, his hair slicked into place like
something out of the old vids. Talbot took his time, and Jack waited. He glanced behind him once or
twice, but the cathedral trees were still there, so he turned his gaze back to watch Talbot’s steady
approach. When Talbot was about ten feet away, though distance was always deceptive in the dream
landscape, he stopped.
“Hello,” said Talbot.
“Hey,” said Jack.
There was a silence, followed by a slight buzzing in the air, like the sound of insects.
“What are you doing here?” said Talbot.
“I guess I’m looking for you,” Jack answered slowly. But that couldn’t be right. He forced himself to
concentrate, but his willpower kept slipping away.
Talbot nodded. The sweat smell was joined by the hint of ozone.
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“Where are we?” asked Jack.
Talbot shrugged. “I wish I knew. You wish you knew.”
But Jack did know.
Sometimes dream statements weren’t quite what you expected, but Jack just accepted it for what it was.
“Who killed you?” he asked.
Talbot frowned, puzzling over the question. “Am I dead?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
Talbot’s eyes widened. The buzz had grown louder, pounding in Jack’s ears.
A bright flash lit the landscape, a sizzling rush, and then the buzzing was suddenly gone. The sharp smell
of burning filled the air. Talbot still stood in front of him, but half his face had been burned away, and one
arm was gone, leaving just a blackened stump. His remaining eye was still wide.
“See wha’ you done,” he said with what remained of his mouth.
“I’ve done?” said Jack. “That wasn’t my fault. I’m not responsible.”
Wait! He’d dreamed this dream before. He was simply replaying an earlier dream sequence from an
earlier case. That didn’t make sense. Talbot had nothing to do with what was going on now.
“Stop!” he shouted.
He looked down at his hand, but it was empty. He closed it and opened it again, willing the stone shard
back. When he opened his hand this time, it was there. He channeled his attention down, staring at the
rock chip, focusing his concentration. Then he willed his thoughts to Billie. Billie was closest to what he
needed. Billie, he thought, calling to her in the void.
But when he looked up, the landscape was the same. Talbot still stood there looking at him out of his
half-ruined face.
“Yack Stein,” said Talbot.
Jack tried to look away, past the blasted features, trying to determine where they were. Above him lay a
broad ceiling. No, it wasn’t a ceiling. It was farther away than that, far, far above. It was…it was sky,
but dark, leaden gray. That was all he could see. They were standing on nothing, floating. Quick traceries
of light shot back and forth below them. Jack tried to look everywhere but at the face that was speaking
to him.
“You…haf…to go.”
“What is it, Carl? Where do I have to go?”
Talbot tried to wave his arm. His remaining eye looked surprised. He gestured with the other, good arm.
The sky disappeared. The lights in the darkness disappeared. Blankness remained. They floated in
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nothing. Jack peered into the nothingness, trying to work out what he was supposed to be seeing. There,
over Talbot’s maimed shoulder, something was forming, far away now. Jack concentrated. Quad shapes.
Quad shapes like four thick, stocky legs, joined to a central spire that reached up into the sky.
“’Ere!” said Talbot emphatically. “You haf to go.”
“Why do I have to go there, Carl? Tell me.”
Talbot drifted into vaporous wisps and blew away, saying nothing more. Jack was left with the structural
image in front of him. He stared at it, imprinting it deeply.
Then he was somewhere else. He was standing on a plain. Silver shapes flashed above his head, almost
too fast to follow. One zipped silently past, whipping his head back as he tried to track it.
He turned to track it into the distance.
Something was standing behind him. It was tall, four legs, spaced evenly around a thick central body. It
seemed smooth, featureless, shining slightly with a silvery slickness. At first he thought it was some sort of
sculpture, the same sort of structure as the other things he’d seen, but on a smaller scale. And then it
moved. Jack took a step back. Again, one of the four legs swung forward, repositioning the body. The
top of the thick central shaft tilted forward. The whole thing looked ponderous, awkward. About halfway
up the shaft something slowly bulged, then separated. A section folded down and then another. Behind
one of the sections, there was a hollow. Jack shook his head. This was just weird, and the weirdness was
working in his chest, making his heart pound faster. There was something in the hollow. Despite the fear
starting to rise within him, he looked closer. There was a shape in there, something flat, rectangular. He
recognized that shape. It was the artifact.
The sections that had folded down swung back up, and the hollow was concealed once more. The
bulging torus slowly merged back into the shaft, and then the thing was gone.
Jack swallowed back his frustration.
“No, dammit!” he shouted at the empty plain. This was the same dream. The same dream over again.
Almost instant by instant, scene by scene, he had dreamed this very same dream over two years ago.
He was alone on the plain, and then he wasn’t. Talbot was back.
“What do you want?” said Jack.
Talbot winked with his one remaining eye. “We know you are ’ere, Yack,” he said.
And Jack was awake.
Six
Jack had been expecting more. Something else. Something different. He knew there was no point trying
to go back into dreamstate, though. He sat up and checked the time display. An hour. Nothing he could
use there, at least not that he could see yet. He just couldn’t work out why Talbot kept reappearing. The
dead guy had been a clue in the earlier case, but how could he be a clue now? It made no sense, unless it
was because the dream back then had been linked to the aliens. Both of them had the strange quad alien
beings, and both had Talbot. Those last dreams had been more about Talbot himself, but now it was
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about the aliens. Maybe that was the link. Anyway, it appeared he’d have to use his other avenues of
investigation, and meanwhile, time was ticking past and he was no closer to finding out what had
happened to Billie.
He dressed, then reached for the map that the woman had given him. Sitting at the small glass table, he
spread it out, then flipped through it, peering one by one at the misshapen colored ovals representing the
various levels, knowing that really it was a pretty pointless exercise. He knew nothing about Balance City
and the way things worked here. Maybe this place had some sort of life going on somewhere, but
damned if he’d seen any sign of it yet. Heering had been pretty pointed in his direction, though. He folded
the map away with a frustrated sigh, grabbed his coat, and, after shrugging it on, shoved the map into an
inside pocket. That was one thing he’d learned over the years: You didn’t wander the streets of a strange
city with a map on full display, even the handipad variety. It screamedvictim. And as it was, he stood out
without even trying. Not that he had any intention of purchasing any of the rainbow outfits that would let
him fade into the crowd.
He patted his pockets, more out of habit than anything else, but apart from his handipad and the map,
there was nothing to check. All it did was remind him of another thing he was missing—a weapon.
Where the hell was he going to find a gun? You never knew when you might need that little added bit of
security, especially in Jack’s line of work. Dammit, Stein. Preparation. He should have learned that by
now. He was right not bringing one with him, with the security he’d seen on the way in, but at least he
should have searched for where he might be able to find one.
Checking his room, and then making sure the door was firmly locked, he headed back down to the
lobby to have a word with the concierge. That should at least give him a steer in the right direction. Hotel
staff were supposed to know things.
A woman he hadn’t seen before stood behind the desk. Dark hair was tied back in a severe bun, and
high cheekbones accented slightly almond, dark eyes. The hospitality smile flashed into place as he
approached. When he dug the map out of his pocket and spread it flat in front of her, the smile rapidly
slipped away.
“Maybe you can help me,” he said, flipping over a couple of the map leaves.
“I will try,” she responded in a flat voice. “Of course…” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Okay,” said Jack, meeting her blank expression and prepared to play out the charade. “This map is
pretty good, but it doesn’t give me a lot of information. If you could give me any pointers about areas that
I should really avoid, I’d appreciate it.”
There was the barest pursing of her lips and a narrowing of the eyes. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’m a foreigner here. I don’t really know the city. I would guess you might be local.” It wasn’t a given,
especially not in a hotel, but she had the look and the attitude. “Every city has areas that you might want
to stay out of at night. Right? Even in the daytime. I just want a couple of pointers. Could you do that for
me?”
She barely restrained a sigh, then gave a reluctant nod. She leaned forward and turned over two of the
map leaves, looking at them and moving them back and forth, then laid one of them flat. With one finger
she traced a line around the edge of the purple-hued oval on that page. The level—Jack guessed it was
about four down—was uniformly shaded, except for a squarish green projection at one edge, not too far
from where her finger now pointed.
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“This level, Algol,” she said, briefly pointing to the name at the top before returning to trace the western
edge again, “is not so nice. Here, especially, I would advise care. In fact, you’d be better off not going
there at all, particularly alone.”
“I see,” said Jack.
“Not advisable at all,” she said with a brief nod, as if confirming it to herself.
Jack gave a half smile. So that was likely to be one of his first stops.
“Okay,” he said. “Anywhere else?”
“Well…” She turned another couple of leaves. The page now showing was a mosaic of regular pink and
light blue squares. Their oval was quite a lot smaller than many of the others. “This area, Carlton, is…”
Here she paused. “Where some of the…local politicians, and others, make their homes.” Again the
pause. “They tend to like their privacy and security.”
“Security?” Jack picked on the word, feigning innocence. You generally didn’t need security unless you
had something to be securedagainst.
“It’s just,” she said, moistening her lower lip, “they don’t exactly welcome visitors.”
“Hmmmm.” Jack tucked the information away. “All right. One more question and then I’ll leave you
alone. Do people hunt here?”
“Yes, of course,” she responded.
Jack nodded. Lots of forest, a certain type of population. It was the classic environment for hunters. He
had thought they might. “So,” he said. “Where might I buy some hunting equipment?”
Her expression lightened a shade, and for a moment her gaze flickered across his face and body, as if
she were reassessing. She gave the briefest nod, then turned her attention back to the map, flipping back
to one of the higher levels. “Here,” she said, taking a pen and circling a yellow area. “This is a shopping
district. You will probably find what you are looking for here. But, really, if you wish, we could arrange
something for you. Perhaps you’d like to engage the services of a hunting guide?”
“No, that’s fine,” said Jack, reaching for the map and folding it away, back into his inner pocket. “I
prefer to do these things myself. You’ve been most helpful. Thank you.”
And she had, but perhaps in ways she didn’t expect.
“Let us know if we can be of any further assistance, Mr. Stein,” she said.
Oh, that was good. She knew exactly who he was. He might have guessed they were keeping tabs on
him. How much exactly did they know? Somehow the idea didn’t exactly make him feel comfortable.
More than half a dozen separate spots gave access to the city below, each marked on the map with a
clear red circle. Jack had already decided that he’d try the area on the westernmost side first, if only to
get a feel for the place and work out if there was any chance of finding what he needed. Equipping
himself properly could come later, if he absolutely felt the need for some hardware. A quick glance at his
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map of the upper level gave him a clear idea of which way he should be heading. It didn’t seem to be too
far from the place he’d first emerged from the port and into the glass-and-steel sterility of Balance City.
As he left the hotel’s front doors, his senses tingled with the old familiar feeling of being watched.
Someone was observing him. Perhaps it was just the concierge, perhaps it was only the hotel’s own
surveillance equipment, but the sensation was clearly there. He was suddenly struck with the knowledge
that right now it would be a bad move to let anyone know that he knew.
By the time he reached the shuttle stop, the feeling was gone, but the unease wasn’t, and he stayed
vigilant, using the old tricks to keep a watchful eye: the casual glance, the use of his peripheral vision,
even that feeling of certainty that grew in his gut and reached out to the world around him. Partly from
stakeouts, partly from the old intelligence and counterintelligence days, when it was wise to make sure the
watcher wasn’t the watched as well, the habits were almost autonomic. For now, though, he seemed to
be in the clear. It did prompt another thought. He looked up and around at the surrounding buildings.
Their clean, hard surfaces were unblemished, no protrusions, nothing that didn’t look purely functional.
He did wonder, however, if somewhere in Balance City there was not a group of observers watching the
comings and goings of its populace, keeping tabs and storing it all away in neatly filed archives ready to
be recalled at a moment’s notice.
The expected shuttle cruised to a halt, and Jack climbed aboard, squeezing between a packed group of
colorful locals, each of whom studiously avoided eye contact. Grabbing a handrail, he simply avoided
them back, though he was slightly amused to catch one or two of them giving him the full head-to-toe
when they thought that he wasn’t looking. Okay, so he wasn’t one of them. They could live with it. With
a slight snort to himself, he turned his attention to the passing streets, keeping an eye out for where he
was supposed to alight. With Balance City’s complete lack of useful signage in the city proper, he
needed to keep alert.
He shouldn’t have worried. The shuttle pulled to a stop right in front of a small open space that proved
to be just what he wanted. If it had had any vegetation, it might just have been a park, but it was bare,
empty, apart from one obvious feature. No words, nothing but a big blue sign bearing one thing—a big
white arrow pointing down. This way lies madness, he thought, then shook his head. Where the hell had
that come from? He squeezed past a couple of his fellow passengers and stepped down, waiting for the
shuttle’s doors to close before turning and entering the square.
A boxed glass structure similar to the one he’d stepped out of when he’d first arrived stood to one side
of the sign, and on the other side was what looked like a staircase, descending into darkness.
Jack pulled out the map, flipping through the leaves, checking. He needed to descend a full four levels to
get to Algol. He guessed the stairs were practical. The elevator could hold only so many people, maybe
ten, twelve people max, and if they had a rush…But if they thought he was going to walk down that many
flights of stairs, they had another think coming. Not Jack Stein. He wandered over to the top of the metal
staircase, frowning a little at the number of steps, the metal walls and ceiling descending into gloom. Even
from here, he could feel a vague breeze blowing up from the levels below, touched with the scent of
machinery and damp. He took two more steps, and as he neared, a pink light flashed on at either side of
the entrance. One by one, banks of lights sprang into life, sending a wave of illumination down the tunnel
as far as he could see, and the whir of machinery throbbed beneath his feet. The damned thing was an
escalator! Only then did he notice the hooded structure paired to this one and facing the opposite
direction. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. He had to give the Utrechtians grudging credit for their engineering,
at least.
Jack was torn now. He could take the elevator all the way down to Algol, or simply ride the escalators
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level by level, stopping briefly at each stage to get a feel for the districts that populated the spaces below.
He had no idea how far down it might be, but the escalator was moving at a fair clip. The idea was
摘要：

headedupthesteps.Insidetherewasasmalllobbycoveredwithnoticeboards,justashewouldhaveexpected.Aglassed-inreceptiondesksatdeadinfront—unattended.Heglanceddownthecorridorsleftandright,hesitating.Shouldhejustwanderin?Therewasnothingelseforit.Asheturnedintothecorridortotheright,henoticedgold-letteredsigns...

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