Race Against Time (15 page)

"They could watch us as well among the trees as in a sphere."

"I don't think so. This isn't an enclave. I think they were overconfident, sure that their plan was working. When we changed course, we dropped out of the net. They may not know what happened."

She considered for a moment. "I agree," she said, surprising and pleasing him. He had expected more of an argument.

"Now we have to figure out where our friends are and how to reach them. I didn't plan beyond this point. In fact, I wasn't sure there really was forest land out here; it might have been artificial."

Canute woofed.

"Oh-oh," John said. "That's his 'chase' warning. Someone's after us."

Now they could hear the hum of a ground-sphere. "Perhaps a routine mission?" Meilan asked hopefully.

The hum grew louder. They had had one encounter with a ground-sphere and its paralyzing beams. It would be foolish to risk that again.

"What can we do?" Meilan whispered.

John looked about but saw nothing but trees. If the sphere were following them, it would find them anywhere they ran. His ankle twinged reminiscently; no sense hurting it again by ludicrous heroics. Their position was hopeless.

"Ask your I Ching," he said, taking his bitterness out on her.

To his amazement and disgust, she concurred. "Yes. We should have done that before we started. I will consult I Ching."

John judged by the sounds that the pursuit was within a quarter mile, and he knew the small spheres could move at at least thirty miles per hour. That meant about thirty seconds until capture. He did not want it to end so ludicrously. "Meilan, I was joking—not that it makes any difference."

"But I have no yarrow sticks!" she cried, oblivious to his words. "I know the hexagrams, but the selection must be random."

"Flip a coin," he said with resignation. To have come so close to escape, and now to wait so helplessly!

"I have none!" she cried.

He saw that she was really upset. Probably it was transference from the tension of the chase—being emotional about something inconsequential. Sometimes it had happened to him, too. "I have a penny—an American coin," he said and presented it to her.

She snatched it from him. "I will call the head divided," she said. "The building undivided."

"What are you talking about?" The pursuit hum was louder, but evidently he had overestimated the sphere's speed.

Meilan ignored him. "One throw per line. It is not proper, but we have too little time." She spun the coin to the ground. "Six, divided."

She scraped a place bare of leaves, then drew a broken line in the dirt. She threw the coin again. "Six, divided."

"Still heads. Where do you get this 'six' business?"

She drew a second broken line parallel to the first, above it. She threw again. "Six, divided."

The hum of the sphere was becoming so loud he was sure the thing would burst upon them in an instant. In fact, it sounded like several spheres this time.

"Six, divided," she announced again, drawing a fourth pair of lines above the others. "Six, divided. And six, divided."

"Broken record," he muttered. "You can't be flipping properly; it always comes up heads."

But her figure was complete: two columns of parallel lines.

"That is—let me think—that is the khwan hexagram. The earth mother—the symbol of submission."

The spheres still had not come into sight. Now John was sure this was deliberate. By the sounds, he and Meilan were being encircled. There was no possible escape. "Submission, yes," he murmured. "It's right about that. We have no choice. But still I'd like to"

"The superior man must not take the initiative," she said firmly. "That is the message of I Ching. We must wait."

"Fat lot of good that advice does us now! I don't need any Ching to tell me we're sunk. What do we do after we're caught and locked up? Does it tell you that?"

"I Ching tells everything. I will make another hexagram. For you, Smith John, so that you will know what you must do—when that time comes."

John started to make a sarcastic reply but caught himself. She wasn't joking! She believed in this I Ching and in her distraction had even put his name backward in Chinese fashion. "All right. But be careful how you flip that coin. It's no good if it isn't random, is it?"

"I did say random, but it is not. The circumstance of the supplicant guides the hexagram; otherwise the advice I Ching offers would not be valid. But it is not for me to influence the turn of the coin." She flipped it again, more carefully. "This is the first nine, undivided." She drew a single long line and flipped again. "The second six, divided."

After that there were two more tails: nines, undivided. John watched with growing interest, but at the same time he was increasingly nagged by the silence around them. The spheres had encircled them and stopped. What did it mean?

Finally a head and a tail: six, divided, and nine, undivided. He was catching on to the system. The finished diagram differed from the first:

"Li," Meilan said. "The hexagram of clinging, brightness, fire, light. The symbol of adherence and intelligence."

"Intelligence." John knew it was foolish to be flattered by the verdict of a series of coin flips, but he was. "What does it say to do?"

"The intelligent man will adhere strictly to what is correct."

"But what is correct?" he cried. "To wait here, doing nothing? To—to take no initiative?"

"Perhaps. I Ching does not foretell the future. It guides one to proper attitudes and decisions."

"Maybe so. But we're about to be taken prisoner again. The Standards are all around us, probably listening right now. And this time we won't get away. You can bet on that. We have to act
now
—if we're ever going to."

She was adamant. "I Ching is never mistaken. We must take no initiative. We must adhere to what is correct."

"Make another hexagram. I want a recount." But he knew it was already way too late to do anything, even if he had anything in mind to do. Whatever time they might have had, had been frittered away by this supernatural inanity.

Gravely, Meilan lifted the coin.

"Let me do that," he said, taking it from her. Better this than nothing!

His first flip was tails. "First nine, undivided," he said, drawing a single line.

As he prepared for the second throw, he saw them: uniformed Standards converging. Some carried objects that might be weapons. John pretended not to be aware of them. Meilan had said no initiative; okay, he would take none. He warned Canute with a quick gesture.

He flipped. "Second six, divided." He drew it.

The Standards came to stand in a loose circle around the three of them. The visitors did not speak.

John flipped again. "Third six, divided." Weren't the Standards going to
do
anything?

"Fourth six, divided. Fifth nine, undivided. Sixth nine, undivided." He completed the hexagram.

"Yi," Meilan said. "The symbol of increase, of addition. This man will overcome the greatest difficulties and gain advantage."

John stood up. "That," he said with ironic satisfaction, "is more like it."

"Come with us, please," one of the Standards said.

The games were over. John and Meilan walked with the Standards, and Canute followed docilely.

There was a noise like thunder cracking overhead, and a sudden stiff wind struck them. "Thunder and wind, too!" Meilan cried, her face animated. "That is part of yi!"

Then the Standards fell away on either side. John and Meilan and Canute were the only ones to remain standing. A sphere descended suddenly.

"Don't just gawk! Jump in!"

It was Betsy. Rescue was at hand.

For a moment it was another scramble, as John and Meilan climbed into the taxi and hung on while acceleration tore at their bodies. John kept one hand at Canute's collar, preventing the dog from sliding back out the fogged door while the craft ascended. Then things steadied. John sat up and saw Ala.

He lurched to his feet, crossed the small floor, and kissed her. He turned to face Betsy and Meilan. They were no more amazed than he.

"Just what have you been up to?" Betsy demanded.

John had no answer. What he chiefly remembered about Ala was her golden ornament. And one other thing: "What did you mean—The palm leaf despises the hippo'?"

She smiled. "It was a spell to ward off attack."

"A spell. Do you believe in magic?"

"I do. And it had its effect until you used the counterspell."

"I did no such thing!"

Ala only smiled again.

Meilan said: "I have already met Humé, and of course John and Betsy and Pei. But not Ala, except by reputation."

Ala nodded. "Humé told me of you. I think he prefers the Middle Kingdom to Songhai."

Humé, who had been expertly guiding the taxi until now, turned to face John. "Just as Ala prefers America to Kanem/Bornu." He was black and handsome and large. "Did Meilan importune you also with her infidel book?"

"Did she! We were casting hexagrams while the Standards stood and watched over our shoulders. And you know—those I Chings were right! First one said to stand pat. Second said to do what was correct. Third said we would win out. And then you rescued us, so it all came true, coincidentally."

"Coincidentally!" Betsy exclaimed indignantly. "Why didn't you follow the original plan? We were waiting to pick you up on the rooftop. Then you didn't show, and we thought we'd been tricked."

"You
were waiting? The communicator arranged that?"

"We received a cryptic message. It seemed to be from you. From Meilan, rather, because it was in Chinese symbols only Pei could read. So we took a chance and came. Then you—"

"So the I Ching was right again!" John said, bemused. "It was my initiative that messed it up. I thought it was a trap. I guess I did the wrong thing."

"You generally do," Betsy said.

"It does not matter," Humé said. "It is more important that we decide what to do now."

"Humé knocked out those Standards with their own rays," Betsy said warmly. "He knows all about weapons."

"We must decide," Humé said, "or be captive again."

"I think not," Pei said.

"Listen to him," Betsy said. "He's a scholar."

John noticed that there was no sarcasm in her voice when she spoke of Yao Pei. She was impressed with him, all right.

"I do not believe the Standards tried very hard to make us captive," Pei said. "They may believe that we will return to our own enclaves if given leisure to do so."

"Return!" John exclaimed. "Why?"

"Because the enclaves are familiar, and the Standard world is not. We can have everything we need inside, whereas outside we are comparative savages."

"Better a savage than a zoo specimen!" John said.

Pei shrugged.

"You know," Betsy said thoughtfully, "my parakeet seemed to be happiest in the cage. Outside it could bang into windowpanes or land on a hot pot. Once it tried to take a bath in a cup of cocoa."

"We are not parakeets," Humé said.

"Can we really have everything we need?" Ala inquired, glancing at John.

Nobody answered. On the physical level the answer was yes. On the emotional level, involving personal concepts of freedom, self-respect, and romance, it was no.

"We cannot fly along forever," Humé said. "We do not know how to find our way by ourselves."

"We can find our way," John said. "Meilan and I worked out the Standard coordinates system, pretty much."

"Excellent! But we still must act together. We should choose a leader."

"Yes," John said. "Who?"

There was an awkward silence.

Ala was first to tackle the problem. "It should be a male."

Meilan agreed immediately. Betsy hesitated, then nodded. "But which one?"

John wanted to be the leader, but he was also afraid of the responsibility. His hands were sweating. Neither Humé nor Pei looked any more at ease. How was this diverse group to make the choice?

"Since the ladies have renounced the position," Pei said, "perhaps they should make the selection."

John exchanged glances with Humé, startled by the simplicity of this suggestion. The three girls looked at each other, just as surprised. "Well, why not?" Betsy demanded as though someone were debating it. Her forwardness contrasted with the reticence of the others.

The taxi was crowded with the six of them and Canute, and there was no place for the girls to talk privately. Betsy pulled the others down so that their heads were together. There was an animated whispering, and twice all three girls tittered.

At length they stood up. "We decided to do this scientifically," Betsy announced. "You'll draw straws." She held up her fist, showing three bits of ribbon. "The long one gets it." She came at John, proffering the display.

"Hurry up, John," Betsy said.

Irritated, he yanked out a length of yellow ribbon. It was about three inches long. Was that long or short? Did he
want
it long—or short?

Humé was next. Smiling, he took a piece of black ribbon. It seemed to be about the same length as John's. Pei accepted a white ribbon, having no choice. It was twice the length of the others.

"Very well," Pei said, assuming command as though the issue had never been in doubt. "Humé, you are competent in weapons and logistics and military tactics. Do you also know how to handle an interplanetary craft?"

"I studied to be a warrior," Humé said. "I can lead a party safely over rough ground, avoiding ambushes, and I can navigate small boats—or boatlike vehicles such as this one—but I did not know what a planet was until you told me some hours ago. A military man learns not to operate outside his competence."