Lawrence Watt-Evans - Out of This World

“Will you be taking us back to our ship?”

Ted glanced at Pel, who gave his head a quick, negative jerk.

“Not at first, anyway,” Ted said.

Cahn accepted that with a brisk nod. “Where, then?”

“My house,” Pel volunteered. “To talk, maybe make some plans.”

Cahn snapped another quick nod. “Good enough, then,” he said. “Lead the way.”

“We’ll be traveling in three cars,” Pel said.

“Groundcars?” Cahn asked. “Like the others we saw?”

“Groundcars are all we’ve got here, Captain,” Ted said, grinning.

In the parking lot it took only a moment to divide the group up. Raven, with some trepidation, resumed his seat in the front of the Chevy, while Rachel and Proserpine Thorpe climbed in the back. Raven eyed Thorpe with passing interest, but then busied himself fastening his shoulder harness. What had originally struck him as a quaint custom he now saw as an absolute necessity, and he tugged at every point, making sure the straps were secure.

Prossie, in the back, studied Raven. He didn’t seem to fit here; his clothing and manner were noticeably different from the others. One possibility occurred to her, but it seemed very unlikely. She debated asking him straight out, but then decided that would be rude, and she did not care to be rude with the people who had just bought her free.

“These groundcars of yours are interesting,” she said, casually.

“Aye,” Raven said. “That’s a word for it.”

Rachel giggled; Nancy concentrated on getting the car out of the parking slot and headed in the right direction.

“Not as smooth as they could be, though,” Prossie added, as they bumped over the discontinuity between the parking lot and the road.

Raven, now secure in his seat, turned and stared. “Say you so?” he said. “We’ve none that ride a fifth part so well, whence I’ve come.”

“Well,” Prossie admitted, while absorbing Raven’s implication that, as she had suspected, he came from somewhere else, “anything with wheels is going to be bumpy.”

Rachel looked up at Prossie. “What kind of car hasn’t got wheels?” she demanded.

Prossie looked down at the girl. “An aircar, of course.” She paused, then added, “But I suppose you don’t have them here, do you? If anti-gravity doesn’t work, you couldn’t.”

“What’s Annie Graffiti?” Rachel asked.

“Like Luke Skywalker’s landspeeder,” Nancy suggested from the front seat. “You remember, when we rented ‘Star Wars’?”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “But I thought that was just in the movies?”

Prossie struggled to follow this; she still had trouble with the accents and the lack of any thought behind the words, and she missed several of the references, but it was clear the little girl had thought aircars were fictional. Prossie smiled. “Not where I come from,” she said.

“Then ‘tis true,” Raven said, “that the machines of this world, and the machines of the Galactic Empire, are different, one from the other?”

“Oh, yes,” Prossie agreed, leaning forward between the backs of the front seats. “Very true.” She paused, then added daringly, “And you, I take it, are from the realm of Shadow?”

“Aye,” Raven said, “if you must call it that.”

“What do you call it, then?” she asked. “The place you come from, I mean?”

“Simply the World,” Raven answered. “We call it the World, for ere two years gone we knew no other-at the least, myself and my companions knew no other; I cannot speak for all the wizards and sages.”

Prossie hesitated. She thought she was getting the hang of entirely-spoken conversations, but she was still wary of being rude; she had none of her accustomed feedback.

Still, she felt it should be said. She asked, “And you’re not one of Shadow’s creatures?”

“Nay,” Raven barked, startling Nancy and almost causing her to swerve. “I’ve fought Shadow since I was a lad, and shall fight it ever whilst I live!” He shook a clenched fist to indicate his determination.

“I had to ask,” Prossie said apologetically. “I mean, as far as I know, the only people from your world we’ve ever found in the Empire were constructs Shadow had created-things that are virtually indistinguishable from human beings, but… well, they aren’t really human.

“Fetches,” Raven said. “And homunculi.”

“Simulacra, we call them.” She wasn’t even sure just what words Raven had used.

“What are you two talking about?” Nancy asked, as she steered the car onto the entrance ramp for the interstate.

“Your pardon, lady,” Raven said. “We speak of the foul creations of Shadow-things that mock humanity, that appear to the eye as men, that speak fair and feign good will, and that then turn on true humans when the time is ripe, all in the service of their evil master. They carry messages for Shadow, and work its will, all the while seeming no more than cheerful peasants or yeomen, or even gentry. Some even take the form of living men; such a one will slay the true man and usurp his place, live his life, even bed his woman, until the opportunity arises to wreak ill.”

“They aren’t really human,” Prossie said. “Some of the details are wrong. They don’t have appendixes, for example, and the structure of the brain is wrong, and none of them remember anything from their childhoods.”

“They had no childhoods,” Raven told her. “They are not born, nor do they grow as we do; they are made as adults, somehow, by Shadow’s magic, brought forth full-grown and full of hate and treachery.”

“Androids, you mean,” Nancy said.

“Yes, only we call them simulacra,” Prossie said, trying to avoid yet another unfamiliar word.

“Homunculi,” Raven said.

“You’re scaring me!” Rachel said, loudly and unhappily.

“Ah, mistress, I beg pardon,” Raven said, turning and bowing his head.

“I’m sorry,” Prossie said. “Uh… what was your name again?”

“Rachel,” Rachel told her.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Rachel.”

Rachel managed a small sniffle and turned away, obviously not accepting the apology.

A few seconds later she changed her mind and turned back. Prossie looked down expectantly.

“It’s okay,” Rachel said in a small voice. “But don’t do it any more, okay?”

* * * *

Captain Cahn rode in the front seat of the Lincoln, with Spaceman First Elmer Soorn squeezed in between himself and the driver, and three more crewmen in back.

“So,” Ted said, as he pulled out of the parking lot, “where are you guys from?”

Spaceman Soorn glanced uneasily at his captain.

Cahn considered the matter briefly before deciding that he might as well tell the truth. He didn’t really know what was going on, but he had been sent as an envoy, not a spy. “We were sent here as representatives of the Galactic Empire,” he said. “Our ship’s home port is called Base One, in the Delta Scorpius system.”

Ted threw him a quick grin.

“Sure,” he said. “I figured, when I saw the uniforms, that it was something like that. Galactic Empire, huh? Knew it wasn’t New Zealand.”

Soorn, startled, turned to stare at the driver.

Cahn, moving more thoughtfully and showing no surprise, also focused his attention on Ted.

“I didn’t get your name,” he said.

“Ted Deranian,” Ted said. “Call me Ted.”

“Mr. Deranian,” Cahn said. “You speak as if meeting emissaries from another universe is not particularly out of the ordinary for you.”

“Oh, on the contrary, Captain,” Ted said, as he accelerated to pass Nancy’s little coupe. “I’ve never met anything remotely like you folks before. That’s why I’m enjoying it so much.”