“What the hell are you doing?” Diem shrieked. “Goddamit, I know you’re Erewhonese, whoever you are! Imbesi—are you there? Why are you letting this maniac—”
There was the sound of a pulser firing, and the side of Diem’s head was suddenly shredded. It wasn’t a fatal wound—not even an incapacitating one—but his left ear and a goodly chunk of his scalp was now gone. Blood began spilling down his shoulder.
“I require information, not prattle.”
“Where am I?”
“In the village.”
“What do you want?”
“Information.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“That would be telling. We want information…information…information!”
“You won’t get it!”
“By hook or by crook, we will.”
“I’m going to lock you up for two hundred years.”
“That ought to be just about right.”
“Think of the London police not as your enemies, but as your dearest friends. They are, you know. Because,” he fixed Xaviera with a cold eye, “until they get done with you, I can’t start.”
Oh really, Doctor! As far as I can gather from your computer record at UNIT, the difficult thing is to stop you talking.
What to do? Tell the others? Share this latest, strangest, most important discovery–not the word!–this benefice, this gift?
“Love the tentacle!”
How were you able to determine that?
“Well, after all, no one knows exactly what you look like. That makes some people a little nervous.”
“Good.”
The counterman did not smile. “It’s not good.”
“I heard it was really bad,” Jay said.
Good, bad, I’m the guy with the gun.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Your Grace, but aren’t these people here to demand our surrender?”
“That’s my understanding of their mission orders, yes, Captain Cardones,” she replied, almond eyes still gazing thoughtfully at the master plot.
“Then don’t you think they ought to be, well, demanding it?”
“Don’t worry. Won’t insult legendary underworld solidarity by suggesting you surrender name without torture.”
“No, what we’ve uncovered so far shows enough planning and chicanery that I suspect there’s more to be found.”
I should have known the truth would come out sooner or later. The fact is, I really was born on earth…tomorrow. You see, I’m not from another planet. I’m from the future.
Then tell me, future boy, who’s President of the United States in 1985?
Aristotle was a jerk.
I’m in awe, Lennier. The way you can take a simple proposition and turn it inside out so that it says what you want it to say rather than what it actually says. Does this come naturally or did you attend some sort of…martial arts class for the philosophically inclined?
People have found you guilty of one hundred and twenty three counts of first degree murder and one hundred and twenty three counts of unauthorised travel to parallel universes. For these crimes you have been sentenced to life without the possibility of return.
“Lincoln Sternn, you stand here accused of 12 counts of murder in the first degree, 14 counts of armed theft of Federation property, 22 counts of piracy in high space, 18 counts of fraud, 37 counts of rape… [pauses to check rap sheet] … and one moving violation. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty.”