“That reminds me,” Dan said. “I have to be running along now.” He sidled toward the door.
“Stick around, Dan,” the voice rumbled. “How about a drink? I can offer you Chateau Neuf du Pape ’59, Romany Conte ’32, goat’s milk, Pepsi—”
“No, thanks.”
“If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll have a Big Orange.” The Vorplischer swiveled to a small refrigerator, removed an immense bottle fitted with a nipple and turned back to Dan. “Now, I got a proposition which may be of some interest to you. The loss of Percy and Fiorello is a serious blow, but we may yet recoup the situation. You made the scene at a most opportune time. What I got in mind is, with those two clowns out of the picture, a vacancy exists on my staff, which you might fill. How does that grab you?”
“You mean you want me to take over operating the time machine?”
“Time machine?” The brown eyes blinked alternately. “I fear some confusion exists. I don’t quite dig the significance of the term.”
“That thing,” Dan jabbed a thumb toward the cage. “The machine I came here in. You want me—”
“Time machine,” the voice repeated. “Some sort of chronometer, perhaps?”
“Huh?”
“I pride myself on my command of the local idiom, yet I confess the implied concept snows me.” The nine-fingered hands folded on the desk. The beach-ball head leaned forward interestedly. “Clue me, Dan. What’s a time machine?”
“Well, it’s what you use to travel through time.”
The brown eyes blinked in agitated alternation. “Apparently I’ve loused up my investigation of the local cultural background. I had no idea you were capable of that sort of thing.” The immense head leaned back, the wide mouth opening and closing rapidly. “And to think I’ve been spinning my wheels collecting primitive 2-D art!”
“But—don’t you have a time machine? I mean, isn’t that one?”
“That? That’s merely a carrier. Now tell me more about your time machines. A fascinating concept! My superiors will be delighted at this development—and astonished as well. They regard this planet as Endsville.”
* * *
“Your superiors?” Dan eyed the window; much too far to jump. Maybe he could reach the machine and try a getaway—
“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving suddenly,” the beach ball said, following Dan’s glance. One of the eighteen fingers touched a six-inch yellow cylinder lying on the desk. “Until the carrier is fueled, I’m afraid it’s quite useless. But, to put you in the picture, I’d best introduce myself and explain my mission here. I’m Blote, Trader Fourth Class, in the employ of the Vegan Confederation. My job is to develop new sources of novelty items for the impulse-emporia of the entire Secondary Quadrant.”
“But the way Percy and Fiorello came sailing in through the wall! That has to be a time machine they were riding in. Nothing else could just materialize out of thin air like that.”
“You seem to have a time-machine fixation, Dan,” Blote chided. “You shouldn’t assume, just because you people have developed time travel, that everyone has. Now”—Blote’s voice sank to a bass whisper—”I’ll make a deal with you, Dan. You’ll secure a small time machine in good condition for me. And in return—”
“I’m supposed to supply you with a time machine?”
Blote waggled a stubby forefinger at Dan. “I dislike pointing it out, Dan, but you are in a rather awkward position at the moment. Illegal entry, illegal possession of property, trespass—then doubtless some embarrassment exists back at the Snithian residence. I daresay Mr. Kelly would have a warm welcome for you. And, of course, I myself would deal rather harshly with any attempt on your part to take a powder.” The Vegan flexed all eighteen fingers, drummed his tentacles under the desk, and rolled one eye, bugging the other at Dan.
“Whereas, on the other hand,” Blote’s bass voice went on, “you and me got the basis of a sweet deal. You supply the machine, and I fix you up with an abundance of the local medium of exchange. Equitable enough, I should say. What about it, Dan?”
“Ah, let me see,” Dan temporized. “Time machine. Time machine—”
“Don’t attempt to weasel on me, Dan,” Blote rumbled ominously.
“I’d better look in the phone book,” Dan suggested.
Silently, Blote produced a dog-eared directory. Dan opened it.
“Time, time. Let’s see . . .” He brightened. “Time, Incorporated; local branch office. Two twenty-one Maple Street.”
“A sales center?” Blote inquired. “Or a manufacturing complex?”
“Both,” Dan said. “I’ll just nip over and—”
“That won’t be necessary, Dan,” Blote said. “I’ll accompany you.” He took the directory, studied it.
“Remarkable! A common commodity, openly on sale, and I failed to notice it. Still, a ripe bope-nut can fall from a small tree as well as from a large.” He went to his desk, rummaged, came up with a handful of fuel cells. “Now off to gather in the time machine.” He took his place in the carrier, patted the seat beside him with a wide hand. “Come, Dan. Get a wiggle on.”
* * *
Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to a point—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat. Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. “Kindly direct me, Dan,” Blote demanded. “Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe you said.”
“I don’t know the town very well,” Dan said, “but Maple’s over that way.”
Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky. Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Dan looked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.
“Over there,” he said. Blote directed the machine as it swooped smoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.
“Better let me take over now,” Dan suggested. “I want to be sure to get us to the right place.”
“Very well, Dan.”
Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimly seen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cage grew even fainter. “Best we remain unnoticed,” he explained.
The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifying landmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barely visible corridor. Blote’s eyes rolled, studying the small chambers along both sides of the passage at once.
“Ah, this must be the assembly area,” he exclaimed. “I see the machines employ a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.”
“That’s right,” Dan said, staring through the haziness. “This is where they do time . . .” He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veered left, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulous figured loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he’d guessed wrong—
The scene fluoresced, pink sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus. Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swiveling to take in the concrete walls, the barred door and—
“You!” a hoarse voice bellowed.
“Grab him!” someone yelled.
Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attempt to regain the carrier as Percy and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at a lever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figures as the carrier shot away through the cell wall.
* * *
Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in the clear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was no telling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hide the carrier, then—
A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume. Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.
The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign of mechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulous landscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against the deafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once. If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan worked the controls, dropping toward the distant earth.
The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, brought the carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last few inches and cut the switch.
As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.
Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noise was, it hadn’t attracted any attention from the scattered pedestrians in the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, why hadn’t it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or no sound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to a secluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in, reached for the controls—
There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dials before him frosted over. There was a loud pop! like a giant flashbulb exploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectangle which hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, faded to blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in a tight-fitting white uniform stepped through.