The Other Side of Here

Waldron shook his head. "You'd better go back to your friends who hate your Leaders, and tell them about this. And get that revolution going! I suspect it's overdue. Because either I win, over here, and your damned Leaders are licked by us, or else I'm killed over here and they'll find this on my body. So you'd better start a revolt."

Fran licked his lips. Then he said in a strange voice: "Perhaps—perhaps you have done me a favor. Our Leaders keep us Underones thoroughly cowed. I have urged revolt before. But the penalties for failure—they have been too great. Now if we do not revolt, we will be punished terribly. Because we cannot tell them—"

Waldron said nothing. He watched, his eyes narrow. Fran Dutt steadied himself.

"I know what I face. If I am accused of treason there will be others accused. Under torture, they would accuse others. Ah, yes! And it would be such torturing, such burning, such slow death— We have been afraid to strike. Now we dare not not strike!" Incredibly, he smiled, his face like chalk. "Either you have done us a favor, Steve, or else you will be cursed by so many men, suffering such agonies as they die, that their curses will pass the boundary between our worlds and strike you here."

"I hope," said Waldron in a matter-of-fact voice, "that I've done you a favor. My guesses were right, then?"

"What harm to tell you?" asked Fran, still ash-pale. "Yes. Straussman arrived in our world many years ago. He appeared in an open field outside of one of our cities, with a structure of metal about him. Underones and Leaders saw it appear. All were frightened. When Straussman appeared, our Leaders took him away and questioned him."

Waldron glanced at Nick. The photographer was listening, but skeptically. And he kept his revolver bearing steadily on Fran.

"Our Leaders," said Fran, "were very gentle to Straussman. They took him to their palace and gave him rich food and many women—women whom they took, as is their custom, from us Underones. Straussman learned to speak our language. He showed marvels. And Straussman became a Leader and even more arrogant than most of the others. He made Underones build him strange devices. Then new things began to appear: new weapons, new books, strange knowledge. The Underones who worked in his palace told of groups of Leaders who went into machines with him and vanished, and many hours later returned. They brought back machines and living plants and dogs which were more intelligent than those we had—even horses.

"And they brought back men who were wounded or drugged, and much more often there were women. Most of these captives were kept in stockades, and children of the Underones were sent to them to be taught. I was one. We were to be trained as spies, and we learned many things. But we were never allowed to forget that we were Underones and that a terrible punishment awaited us and our families if we failed our Leaders!"

Waldron said: "About the same thing that would have happened if ancient Babylonia could have sent time-machines to our era to kidnap and loot."

"But our Leaders feared this world," said Fran. "There were more people here—many more people. And they had something our Leaders could not endure: the people rule themselves. That is a fearful idea to our Leaders. So for many years they have been terrified lest other scientists duplicate the work of Straussman. At first they thought they could build our world to where it could defend itself. But it was easier to tear down the civilization of this world—and it would yield loot. So they kept spies here, and when other scientists—your father, Lucy, and others—began to inquire into Straussman's work, they knew that sooner or later our world would be found out. So they have set out to destroy the things they fear in your world."

"And meanwhile Lucy's father works in their laboratories," said Waldron. "I suggest that he might help in your revolution, Fran. He's no fool. But neither am I. Your armor is better than our high-frequency packs. I'm going to take it."

Fran went whiter still.

That's the same as killing me."

"I'm giving you a high-frequency pack," said Waldron. "Nick, there is an extra pack for him. Get the armor off, Fran."

Fran licked his lips. When his armor was partly removed, he went rigid and started to fall. Nick caught him. They got the balance of the armor off. Lucy donned the armor, discarding her outer clothing behind one of the cars. She looked slim and boyish when she came back.

Nick turned on the power pack. Waldron said coldly: "Now, Fran, we'll be on our way. Nobody eke has a listening device like yours, but they could think of it any time. You stay here. I'll leave your pistol at the next corner." He moved to open the garage door. Lucy said uneasily: "Steve, if Fran's seen without his armor and with one of our packs—"

"He knows what I'll have to do," said Fran harshly.

And Waldron did. Fran would have to use his native language to call a compatriot aside from others, and then he would have to knock out that compatriot and take his armor. And the other man from the other side of here would thereupon become a frozen, catatonic image.

Nick started the car they had fueled and checked over before and Waldron opened the garage doors. The car went smoothly and silently out into the street. With a relatively desperate plan in mind, Waldron moved the car as quietly as possible toward the bonfire on the Pulaski Skyway. It would approach that part of the cordon not far from the dead area, but laterally along the fringe of it. Nick would pretend that he had been passed by another cordon and did not realize that he had gone beyond the permitted area. At the least they would not be shot down for so plausible an error. Then they would be able to use a telephone. They would be able to do something.... Once somebody—anybody—listened to them...