its sinister embrace。
An inter buzzed insistently at Rick's back。 〃mand One；〃 he heard his adjutant say at last。 〃Doctor Lang； Admiral；〃 the colonel continued； conveying the mobile over to him。
〃What the hell's going on？〃 Rick shouted into the mouth piece。 〃Where are we？〃 He glanced at the monitors once more before proceeding。 〃It looks like fog out there； Lang。 Is that possible？〃
〃I would like to humor you； Admiral；〃 Lang said； 〃but； unfortunately； there is little humor in the situation。 And if it is indeed a fog； as you suggest； it is of the quantum sort。 We have life support； but little else； as I'm sure you're aware。 〃
Rick's boot continued to tap the floor long after Lang had finished。 The two men had grown distant from each other on Tirol； Lang like some Prometheus with his facsimile Protoculture matrix； and Rick busy with Roy more often than not。 The wizard of Robotechnology kept getting stranger while Rick just kept getting grayer。
〃How long before you can return power to the drives？〃 Rick demanded。
It was to be the REF's final battle； he thought； the one that was to decide their fate； return to them their homeworld or send them back to Tirol； an irradiated Earth in their wake。
Lang launched his patented maniacal laugh through the earpiece。 〃Perhaps you should abandon your post for a moment and e below； Admiral。 There's something I'd like you to see。〃
〃I don't have time for this； Lang；〃 Rick told him。 〃Just tell me where we are。〃 He heard the urgency in his voice and noted that his adjutant was fixing him with a concerned look。
Lang's laugh trailed off as he cleared his throat。 〃You may not like the answer； Admiral。 〃
Rick's hold on the phone became viselike。 〃You let me lie the judge of that。〃
Lang was quiet a moment； then said： 〃Nowhere。〃
In whispered voices behind cupped hands it was often suggested that Dr。 Emil Lang ran the ship。 Not that he had much to do with mand decisions or actual hands…on astrogation； but that he ran the ship in the sense of driving the ship； fueling it。 Word was passed in those same engineering huddles that the Reflex furnaces and Protoculture drives were nothing but pretense…mock…ups constructed to put the uninitiated at ease…when in fact Lang himself was the drives。 Lang folded space； Lang jumped the fortress from realm to realm。
Lang was aware of all the rumors but did little to discourage them。 Myths concerning his powers and prowess had been in the making since the first day he had set foot inside the grounded SDF…1。 No one had seen him take the Protoculture mindboost that had altered the direction of his life； but they had read the change in his reshaped eyes。 And had his eyes not betrayed him； even had he not taken the boost； they would have invented it for the myth； witnessed that he alone among Earthers was destined to see deeper and clearer than the rest； that the Protoculture had a natural affinity for him。
But that was just the sort of thinking that pointed out how great a distance he had yet to travel。 The ship's drive； he sniggered to himself。 Hardly。 The ship's driven； perhaps； the SDF…3's preconscious libidinal urge 。。。
Lang lifted his eyes to regard the displays once more。 On screen were remote views into the heart of the fortress's power plant； safely rendered for a mortal's eyes； for one did not look long into the naked eye of God and live to describe it。 But there was a burning bush now； no ten thousand stars or golden heavens； simply the absence of those things。 What Lang saw instead was a reflection of his own pride； the hubris that had dominated him for the past five years。 He and Cabell and the Zor…clone； Rem； harvesting the Flower of Life from Optera's regrown fields； coaxing the secret of the Shapings from its trifoliate core； creating a matrix of their own design。 And now this。
Lang saw his face in the display screen and laughed out loud。 The Shapings were teaching him a lesson。
He was still laughing when Rick Hunter rushed in； threading his way through the chaos； techs and their bewildered assistants moving frantically from station to station。
〃What'd you get me down here for； Lang？〃 Rick barked； pacing behind Lang's chair and glaring down at him。
Lang's upturned look was unreadable as he indicated the displays。 His humanity as well as his age seemed to have been arrested by continual contact with the Protoculture。
〃See for yourself； Admiral。〃
Rick spread his hands atop the console and leaned toward an on…screen puter…enhanced translation of the engines' subatomic fire。 He held the pose for a moment； then glanced at Lang in annoyance。 〃I don't see anything wrong； Doctor。〃
Lang snorted。 〃No； of course you wouldn't； Admiral。〃 Rick was used to the condescending tone。
〃Explain。〃 The Roboscientist sighed and blanked the monitor with a tap of a crooked forefinger。 〃It has vanished； Admiral…the Protoculture。 Disappeared。 〃
Rick's dark brows beetled。 He reached out to reactivate the screen； but Lang's powerful hand restrained him。
〃Take my word for it； Admiral； the Protoculture has vanished。〃 It would have been senseless to talk about the shadowy presence of the black…robed wraiths Rem had taught him to recognize。 〃Yes； exactly as it disappeared from the SDF…1；〃 he added； discerning Rick's thoughts。
〃But how？〃 Rick began。 〃Why？〃
〃To teach us a lesson； I think。〃
Rick shook his head。 〃A lesson？〃 He swept his arm through an all…enpassing gesture。 〃Listen to me； Lang。 Rheinhardt and the rest of the fleet are out there waiting for us。 Do you understand what that means？〃
The scientist gave him a pitying look。 〃I assure you； Admiral； the fleet is not out there。〃
〃Then where the hell are we？〃 Rick said； at the end of his rope。 〃And don't tell me nowhere。〃
Lang folded his arms and met the intensity of Rick's gaze。 〃All right。 It's possible that we're still in hyperspace； although there is no evidence to support the hypothesis。 It's also possible that we have died； as some of the ship's personnel are suggesting。 Or that we have somehow jumped to a void in intergalactic space； perhaps jumped beyond the expansion wave of the big bang itself。〃
Rick went wide…eyed。 〃You mean we've jumped outside the galaxy？〃
Lang shrugged。 〃It's simply one theory among many。 A jump beyond time could perhaps explain how and why the Protoculture vanished； although our own continued existence would seem to contraindicate it。〃
Rick staggered backward into a chair adjacent to Lang's。 〃But…but there has to be something out there。〃
Lang shook his head。 〃Not according to our instruments。 We are nowhere； Admiral。 Not even a when that I can determine。 I'm sorry； but there's no other way to put it。〃
Rick turned to face him。 〃Then get us somewhere； Doctor。〃
Lang rubbed his chin。 〃What would you have me do fashion a world for you out of nothingness？〃
Rick forced out his breath。 〃Yes； damn it。 Fashion us a world if you have to。〃
CHAPTER FOUR
〃It's absolutely true。 Mom really did have a took； a different grimace for every occasion。 But I'll tell you something I've never told anyone before： The strangest of all Mom's looks was the one she reserved for any mention of Scott Bernard。 Seriously。 For the longest time I was convinced that they'd had an affair or something。 But then one day Mom told me about the time he stopped by looking for Marlene。 There was that look again； the whole time she told the story。 And I suddenly realized that I wasn't seeing one of those what…might…have…been looks but one that was saying what…never…should…have…been。
Maria Bartley…Rand； quoted in Xandu Reem's A Stranger at Home： A Biography of Scott Bernard
Scott breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the craft settle down； rubber tires chirping against the tarmac on a smooth but long disused stretch of Southlands highway。 Mission priorities and the usual red tape had made it impossible for him to procure an old VTOL； much less an Alpha； so Scott was stuck with a forty…year…old air breather； a civilian five…passenger jet some group in G4 must have liberated from a pre…Wars museum。 They'd blown the dust off the thing and fitted it with new rubber； but the cockpit had seen far better days； and the instruments were ancient。 Scott's biggest problem was refraining from trying to think the aircraft through mechamorph maneuvers。 A lot of good that would have done； anyway； the thing wasn't even equipped with a neural interface thinking cap！
Priorities aside； though； there were good reasons for flying civilian and denying any military affiliation just then。 Earth's surface； the Southlands especially； had bee a sorry place for soldiers。 With the so…called fall of Reflex Point and the Invid abandonment of their hives； Flower of Life orchards； and POW camps； humankind was once more on the move。 People were quite literally crawling out of the holes they had buried themselves in when the Invid had landed。 Tens of thousands； many of whom had spent the past year or more in internment centers in what had once been called Canada； were migrating south from the ruined Northlands； lured to Brazilas by rumors of massive reconstruction efforts and the promise of a United Earth Government rising from the ashes of the Southern Cross apparat。 At the same time thousands more had taken to the cracked and rutted roadways of the thrice…invaded world in search of lost friends and loved ones； while others busied themselves by exacting vengeance on spies； sympathizers； and any who had profited during the occupation。
Soldiers of any army； private or otherwise； were often at the receiving end of the general wrath and blood lust； espe璫ially those unfortunates who had fancied themselves insurgents or freedom fighters。 It was an accepted fact that insurgency had done more damage than good…Invid reprisals having far outweighed the dubious worth of destroying a handful of Shock Troopers or Pincer ships…and that the Regis had not really been defeated but had willingly abandoned the planet in search of richer hunting grounds。 The returning REF consequently was not looked upon as some beneficent force of liberators but as yet another conquering army； a gang of thugs looking to resume control after a fifteen…year absence。
Under the circumstances； Scott's small jet was less a product of choice than of sheer necessity。 And the same held true for his civilian attire。
Mention of the Invid sister simulagents had dropped him right back into the lap of the REF's intel people for two more weeks of memory probes and debriefings。 Ultimately； however； Scott's inquisitors had e to accept that Marlene's present whereabouts were unknown and that Scott himself stood the best chance of finding her。 That he had agreed to do； under the condition that he be given an opportunity to undertake the search alone and in his own fashion。
G2 had acquiesced； figuring that it would prove a simple matter to assign a team of agents to the colonel； but Vince Grant had received word of the operation and vetoed it before a single operative had been assigned。 Back on the surface； meanwhile； Scott had been quizzing migrants； bribing local officials； and bartering with foragers for a line on any one of his six former teammates…counting one for Lancer； and Marlene among them。 He had concentrated on Rand