Part 22 (1/2)

”Maybe this is a b.u.m lead -- but I think I know why we're repeating worlds. And maybe how to snap out of the loop in controlled fas.h.i.+on.”

She sat effortlessly, the muscles in her stomach tightening. ”Speak.”

He showed her his plastic construct, opaque because of its many layers. ”You know what this is?”

”A doodle from plane-frame material.”

”A hexa-hexaflexagon. See, I flex it like this and turn up new faces.”

She took it and flexed it. ”Clever. But to what point?”

”Well, they don't come up in order -- not exactly. Look at the face numbers as you go -- and at the composition of the repeats.”

”One,” she called off. She flexed. ”Three... Two... One... Five... Two, inverted.” She looked up. ”It's a double triad. Intriguing, not remarkable.”

”Suppose we numbered the worlds we've been going through -- and found a repeat that was backwards? I mean, the same, but like a mirror image?”

For the first time, he saw an agent do a double take. ”The second blizzard was backwards!” she exclaimed. ”Or rather, twisted sixty degrees. The igloo -- the irregularities in it and pattern of our prior tracks, what was left of them, the projector -- all rotated by a third!”

”Yeah. That's what I figured. Didn't make sense at first.”

”Flexing alternates! Could be.” Rapidly she flexed through the entire sequence, fixing the pattern in her mind. ”It fits. We could be in a six-face scheme on this framework. In that case our next world will be -- the forest.” She certainly caught on rapidly! ”But we can't go home from there.”

”No. The face will be twisted, part of a subtriad. But we would know our route.”

”Yeah,” he agreed, pleased.

She pondered momentarily. ”There's no reason the alternates should match the hex faces. But there is a clear parallelism, and it may be a useful intellectual tool, in much the way mathematics is a tool for comprehending physical relations. Our problem is to determine the validity of our interpretation without subjecting ourselves to undue risk.”

”You sound like Cal now!”

”No shame in that,” she muttered. ”Your friend has a freakishly advanced intellect. We could travel the loop again just to make sure -- but that would mean a delay of several hours, waiting for the projectors to recharge. In that time our compet.i.tion could gain the advantage.”

”So we just go ahead fast,” Veg finished. ”We can follow the flex route and see if it works. If it does, we've got our map of alternity.”

”In your b.u.mbling male-normal fas.h.i.+on, you may have helped me,” Tamme said. ”Come here.” Veg knelt down beside her.

She put both hands to his head, pulled him to her, and kissed him. It was like the moment in free fall when a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p halted acceleration in order to change orientation. His whole body seemed to float, while his own pulse pounded in his ears.

She let him go. It took him a moment to regain composure. ”That isn't the way you kissed me before.”

”That was demonstration. This was feeling.”

”You do feel? I thought -- ”

”We do feel. But our emotions are seldom aroused by normals other than amus.e.m.e.nt or distaste.”

Veg realized that he had been paid an extraordinary compliment. But that was all it was. He had helped her, and she was appreciative. She had repaid him with a professionally executed gesture. Case dismissed.