THE MAGIC LABYRINTH by Philip Jose Farmer

Goring turned to Clemens.

“You can see now, or should be able to see, that I was right! I objected to the building of your boat because your purpose was evil! We weren’t raised from the dead and put here to glorify ourselves or indulge in mindless sensuality, in hate, and in bloodshed! We…”

Sam turned away. Followed by Miller, Sam walked out on the floating dock and up the gangplank to the hurricane deck. Joe said, “Thon of a bitch, Tham. He really chewed you out.”

“He’s not even in the race,” Sam said. “I’ve been.eaten out by the best. You should have heard my mother. Or my wife. They could give him a thousand-word start and catch up in ten seconds flat. Forget him. What does he know? I’m doing this for him and all the rest of those mealy-mouthed Chancers. For everybody, whether they deserve it or not.”

“Huh? I alvayth thought you vath doing it for yourthelf.”

“Sometimes you get too smart-alecky,” Sam said. “You don’t talk to the captain like that.”

“I chutht call them am I thee them,” Joe said. He was grinning. “Anyvay, I’m not talking to you Jike a deckhand to the captain. I’m talking to you ath your friend, Choe Miller.”

John Byron spoke to them as they entered the control room.

“Sir, de Marbot reports that the launchers are set up.”

“Good. Tell him to get back down to the launch. And tell Plunkett he can go ahead now.”

The Gascon responded immediately, heading for the strait. The tiny figures of the marines were dimly visible against the blue-black stone and green-black algae as they walked down the ledge cut upon the mountain’s face. They would be using their flashlights before they reached the bottom. The Post No Bills was cutting along the bank for the stone to the west. The noise of machinist’s mates aluminum-welding supports across the shattered base of the pilothouse came to him. Torches flared bluely as men cut away the wreck of the steam machine gun in the bow. Others busied themselves with rockets and a tube-battery to be set up in place of the gun. A party worked furiously to replace the radar antennas.

A half-hour passed. The chief medic reported that five of the wounded had died. Sam ordered that their bodies be taken out in a small boat and dropped in the center of The River. It was done without fanfare, since he did not want to lower the morale of the crew anymore. No, he wouldn’t say service over them first. Let one of the medics do it.

Sam looked at the chronometer. ‘”Plunkett should just about be at the exit of the strait.”

“Then we should see him coming back out in about ten minutes,” the exec said.

Sam looked at the marines halfway down the path. “You did give de Marbot orders that he and his men should flatten out on the ledge if John’s chopper or his launch appears?”

“Of course,” Byron said stiffly.

Sam looked at the bank; There were thousands of men and women there, moving slowly in a closely packed mass eastward. There wasn’t much noise coming from them. Most were burdened with bundles of cloths, pots, vases, statuettes, chairs, fishing poles, carpenter tools, disassembled gliders, and, of course, their grails. They looked at the great boat as they went by, and many held up their hands, the three middle fingers extended in blessing. That made Sam feel guilty and furious. “That thyure ith a pretty balloon,” Joe said.

The huge pear-shaped globe, painted a bright yellow, rose from a roofless building. It soared swiftly upward at an angle, carried east by the wind. At an estimated four thousand feet of altitude, the balloon was a small object. But it was not so small that Sam could not see the sudden blazing red flare.

“They blew it up!” he said. “That must be the real signal!”

Burning, visible on both sides of the lake and for many miles up and down The River, the balloon fell. In a few minutes, it plunged into the water.

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry anymore about civilian casualties,” Byron said.

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