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  the progress of the Game would be broadcast to monitors in selected areas of Dream Park.

  But he and Richard Lopez had been at war for one solid year. Chester stepped back and the elevator doors closed.

  Chapter Six

  FLIGHT OF FANCY

  Somehow Acacia had expected the elevator to carry them down, into the bowels of the R&D building, to long lost caverns where blind gnomes would lead them, hand in gnarled hand, to the beginning of the Great Adventure. Instead it went up. A McDonnell-Boeing Phoenix helicopter was waiting on the roof, its engines humming quietly as the vast horizontal blades turned in lazy circles.

  "What the hell... ?" Tony whispered. She turned to caution him, but saw the grin of incredulous delight and said nothing. "You know, I've always wanted to ride in one of these."

  "Let's just take it one fantasy at a time," she murmured. Over one edge of the roof she could see the shapes and colors of Dream Park, its towers and mazelike walls. To the other side... noth­ing. Area A was hidden in featureless haze, a hologram projection of primal chaos.

  The cargo doors of the Phoenix were open, waiting. A dark brown face suddenly popped out of the darkness, immediately split in a grin. "Greetings!" the man yelled cheerily. "Please, come aboard!" Chester looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded and stalked aboard lugging his totebag.

  Acacia was fifth aboard, just behind a huge man named Eames who walked with a self-conscious swagger. Warrior, she snickered, then reflected that his freckled boyishness might have interested her, if Tony weren't along to keep the chill off. One fantasy at a time, she reminded herself. Anything can happen.

  The interior of the Phoenix copter was comfortable but not plush, with twenty seats and room for their gear in both overhead racks and a hamper in the rear. The pilot of the copter waved back at them as they were seated. "Make yourselves comfortable, folks. I'm Captain Stimac, and you just let me know if you have any problems." The dark man who had greeted them at the door was energetically bouncing up and down the aisle, helping people with their luggage and generally having a great time. Tony filled the seat next to Acacia, and she took his hand affectionately. He asked, "What's next?"

  She shook her head. She didn't want to talk; she wanted to sense.

  The cargo doors creaked shut. The rotors of the Phoenix accel­erated, blurred and disappeared; but, characteristic of the model, the engines only made a hoarse and urgent humming sound. De­veloped for nocturnal combat duty, the Phoenix was as silent as a motor-driven craft could be.

  The ground dropped away. "Yah hooF" screamed Mary-em's buzzsaw voice. "Children, we are off!" The Gamesters cheered as the Phoenix tilted and began to eat distance.

  When the "fasten seat belts" pictogram clicked off, their one-man welcoming committee stood and bowed shallowly to them. "I would like to introduce myself to all of you. I am Kasan Maibang, and I will be your guide and liaison with the people of my island." Chester stood now, his facial lines gone angular with eagerness. "Your island. Then you know where we're going? And what our quest is?"

  Kasan's smile was innocent. "Of course, Mr. Henderson. You do not think that your government would send you on such a per­ilous adventure without benefit of a guide?"

  "Our government..." Chester absorbed that. "No, of course not. I assume you have our briefing sheets?"

  "I am your briefing sheets."

  The Lore Master's shoulders relaxed and he nodded. Behind him, Tony whispered, "Why is that good?"

  Acacia told him. "The briefing material has to be true, in con­text. Lopez isn't allowed to lie to us about the basic assumptions behind the Game. Now Chester knows he can trust Kasan, up to a point. Kasan can't lie."

  "Uh huh." Tony examined the "native" suspiciously. "Is he a hologram?"

  "No. I saw him carrying luggage. Later he might be a holo­gram. He's a Gaming actor. Probably playing for straight points:

  he gets his whether we win or lose, as long as he doesn't blow his lines."

  The Lore Master, more relaxed now, was perched on the arm rest between two empty seats. He asked, "Where are we headed?"

  "To the Melanesian islands, New Guinea to be specific."

  Chester almost laughed. "You're from New Guinea?"

  Maibang was apologetic. "The Episcopalian mission sent me to

  UCLA."

  "Where you were recruited, no doubt."

  "Oh, absolutely. You must appreciate the problem. Ever since the Road to the Cargo was opened in 1945-"

  Chester's sigh of comprehension was audible all over the copter. "Cargo Cult. Right. Please go on."

  Maibang was clearly pleased that Chester had made the jump. "Yes. Well, ever since then, the Melanesian peoples, those who have learned the secret, have been stealing back the possessions that the Europeans-"

  "That's us?"

  Their guide shrugged. "There are us, and there are Europeans. Some Europeans are black or brown or yellow, though most are white-"

  "Okay."

  "My people, the Daribi, were among the peoples blessed with the true secret of the cargo. We prospered. God-Manup sends many wonderful things to his faithful children. Canned meat, elec­tric lights, jeeps, refrigerators, and, of course, weapons with which to drive out the Europeans."

  "Of course," said Chester.

  "Then, nine years ago-" Bare flicker of an eyelash. "In 1946-" Chester absorbed that datum, and nodded. "-my people the Daribi began to divert shipments of cargo intended for Europe and the Americas. Naturally your people fought back with your own rituals, but our sorcerers were mighty. Then you tried the force of your military, and again we prevailed. Late in 1947 my people made their greatest effort, and stole from your people a very great cargo indeed."

  "Which was?"

  Maibang wagged his head sorrowfully. "We sensed its existence and we used our powers to take it, but we never saw it. The ex­treme effort strained our sorcerers. At the last moment, as the cargo was coming to us, a rival tribe who coveted our power used their own magic to divert its path. We were too weak to resist. Their victory over us gained them great mans, great power. They became the dominant force on our island. Your government knows the rest: how their power and their greed leave no ship or airplane safe for a thousand kilometers around. It has gone on for seven years, with the powers of... our enemies growing ever greater."

  Chester sighed. "Do I gather you can't tell us the name of this enemy tribe?"

  "You catch on quick, bwana. Nope, to use the name of so pow­erful a tribe without their prior permission is much bad mana. So my people made contact with yours to strike a bargain. We will help a small group of Europeans into the lands held by the Enemy. You steal back what you can, and get it out. The Enemy will lose mana, and we will regain our power. We will then sign a treaty with you binding us to take only cargo intended for us by God-Manup, and none of yours, as long as you hold to the same agreement."

  "And why should we trust you to keep your promises?~ Chester gave Maibang his most beneficent smile.

  "Because we are not Europeans," Maibang answered humbly. "Jee-zuss," S. J. Waters exclaimed. "We are a long way out." Chester slid over to the nearest window. "We're over the ocean

  I don't see any points of reference yet..."

  "Islands over here, Chester," S.J. called from the other side of the copter. He shaded his eyes against the glare. "~ think we've got Hawaii here."

  "Then we're halfway," Chester said to himself.

  Acacia said, "That's Oahu, I think."

  "Don't know, hon. I've never flown this-" Tony caught him­self. "Damn. I mean I've never been to Hawaii. It's just too easy to forget that this isn't real."

  "So stop trying."

  Tony grinned uneasily. "Last gasps of sanity, I guess."

  "Then breathe deep, lover. The air gets pretty thin from here on out."

  The Phoenix began to judder, and Captain Stimac's voice sounded over the intercom. "We're about to hit rough weather, people. Please notice that the seat belt warn
ing is in effect, and comply with it. Thank you."

  Chester waved a finger at Maibang. "Don't you die on me now. I've got to get a lot more out of you."

  Maibang grinned and promised nothing.

  There were dark clouds ahead now, and already the sky was dimming. The Phoenix dipped as if hitting an air pocket, and a unanimous "Ooh!" was followed by a whoop from Mary-em.

  The clouds came fast. They were ugly, boiling with light and dark grays; ominous flashes of fire played within. The Phoenix was swallowed into the storm, and turbulence shook them like a giant child playing with a toy.

  Lightning glared eye-splitting bright to starboard. The craft dropped and shook with the force of the thunderclap.

  Acacia screamed delightedly and threw her arms around Tony. He grabbed back, yelling at the top of his voice. Rain pelted the sides of the Phoenix, and the engines whined in protest as it tried to climb and stabilize. Again and again their eyes and ears were assaulted by monstrous bursts of light and sound, until it seemed that the Phoenix was coming apart in midair. The whisper of the engines changed to an ominous growling vibration. Between light­ning flashes, nothing could be seen outside, and as the lights failed in the plane Tony found himself kissing Acacia with something akin to genuine terror in his heart.

  At last the storm lightened, and some sunlight peeped through the cloud. There was a stir at the back of the cabin, Gamers push­ing and shoving at the windows. The pair looked out to see what the trouble was.

  Tony looked out on a broad, rounded wing studded with thou­sands of rivets. The motor housing was huge, and the air before it

  was blurred. Its voice was a shattering roar, like the devil let loose on Earth.

  "Wings. I will be go to hell. We've got wings and rivets and propellers!"

  Acacia squeezed past him and pressed her face to the glass. To the rear she could just see the tail stabilizers. As applause and whistles broke out, she shook her head admiringly.

  "It's got to be a mid-nineteen-hundreds model of something or other," Tony said softly.

  S. J. Waters had the answer. "Wowie! A DC-3, a Goonie Bird! Hey, these things were supposed to be half-magical anyway."

  Clusters of passengers began to sing. Fragments of verse cele­brating the adventures of Kafoozalem and Eskimo Nell were heard above the roar of the engines. Offie's high voice rang out:

  "Oh, the camel has a lot of fun, His night begins when ours is done, He always gets two humps for one, As he revels in the joys of fornication!"

  And half the Garners bellowed a ragged chorus:

  "Cats on the rooftops, cats on the tiles-"

  The air had cleared. The plane dipped into a cloud deck and out the bottom. Ollie sang, "The hippo's rump is big and round-"

  "Islands," the redheaded Dark Star said, and the song died in mid-leer.

  They were coming up on the sub-continent itself, and Chester announced above the roar, "We seem to be approaching New Guinea from the Bismarck Sea... those might be the Finis­terre Mountains, only about three thousand meters, we can clear those. - ."

  The view below was an explosion of dense greens and browns, vegetation crowding from the rich soil in rich profusion. The Finisterre Mountains ruled the Huon Peninsula, overlooking Vi­tiaz Strait, and in the crystal-clear air they seemed close enough to reach out and touch. The DC-3 skimmed over them and reoriented north. Soon they were crossing swamps and marshy areas. Captain Stimac's voice buzzed from the intercom.

  "We~ will be reaching Chambri Lake in a few minutes. It's the landmark for the landing strip which has been cleared for us. In fact, I think I see..." There was a pause, and the plane bucked

  in the air. This time the bucking became a jarring side pull that bounced Acacia against her seat belt. "Wait just a minute-that's not the right lake, but something... uh! Move, godamit!" Stimac began swearing in panic. The plane was sliding down the sky; the motors screamed. Stimac shouted, "I can't move the controls! They're moving themselves!"

  Hands gripped seats and faces went white as the swamps rose toward them, rotating now. There was light down there, and water

  a sheen of water directly below the plane's nose, and two lines of lights glowing on the water... and a tower.

  "It's pulling us in," Chester said. He was squeezed up against a window, and his mouth hung a little open. Not frightened, but fas­cinated.

  Kasan was in the aisle, waving his arms and chanting in an un­known language, while two Garners held him steady with hands on his belt.

  Tony almost forgot his own fear as he stared out. Closer now and the control tower was only wickerwork on pontoons, and

  the lights were floating torches tethered by ropes, forming lines too close together to make a real runway. It was a mockery of an airport laid out on water.

  The mock-airport veered sideways, and gee forces pulled sav­agely at the passengers. The DC-3 pulled out of its dive. The wing on the right side bent far enough to pop two lines of rivets, then eased back into place; but fluid was streaming from where the metal had crinkled. Stimac's intercom voice screamed, "Got it! I think we're all right now. Whatever it was, it's- Oh shiti" as the ‘wing unrolled a flapping flag of red-and-yellow flame.

  "I've got to get us down," said the crackling intercom voice. "Brace yourselves. This isn't going to be neat." They were barely at treetop level, trailing flame and black smoke. "I'll try for Chambri Lake. There are life rafts in the rear of the plane . ."

  Tony could restrain himself no longer. "Just what the hell is happening?" He couldn't look away from the line of trees whip­ping past the plane at paint-scraping levels.

  Acacia looked down. "The real lake should be somewhere close up ahead. If we can make that-" her eyes were fixed on the win­dow, and as an expanse of dark green came into view, she sighed in relief. "There it is!"

  The plane plunged, shaking like a dog drying itself, and there were fourteen throat-rendering screams and one "Yah-hoo!" In the

  instant before the plane struck water Acacia was aware of Tony's fingers dipping clawlike into her arm.

  The impact threw them forward. Water surged over the plane, bubbles streamed past the windows. At least the fire was out. The plane bobbed to the surface, wobbled, righted itself. Water lapped at the windows.

  Chester was the first to regain his balance. "All right, every­body, let's get out the lifeboats and get the gear together. We've got work to do."

  Seat belts clicked like castinets. Duffle bags were pulled out of their overhead racks with almost feverish eagerness. Tony looked toward the nose of the plane, where Captain Stimac lolled limply in his chair.

  "Hey, is he... ?" Unnoticed by the rest of the Garners, Tony advanced to the front of the craft, shouldering his backpack un­steadily. "Captain Stimac?" There was no reply. He took another cautious step, feeling the plane yaw slightly beneath him. "Cap­tain?" Stimac's head rolled back loosely from a neck that seemed broken, and a trickle of blood ran from his mouth. Eyes stared sightless from a slack and pasty face. Tony felt his stomach con­vulse, and clutched at himself, suddenly afraid. "Oh my God."

  Then Stimac winked at him. Straightening in mid-retch, Tony glared at him and stalked out of the cabin. He grabbed Acacia by the shoulder and spun her around. "That's the last time, under­stand? Absolutely the last."

  Acting calmly and with near-military precision, Chester had four boats out on the water and was directing the inflating of the fifth from a cylinder of compressed gas. Tony and Acacia were in a raft with S. J. Waters, and Tony was looking back at the DC-3 with a half-smile. "Boy that looks real. You really have to strain to catch even the outline of the Phoenix under the-"

  Acacia laid a hand gently on his arm. "Tony," she said with genuine affection, "stop fighting. It is real. Everything here is real. Just relax and let it happen, okay? Please?"

  Her dark eyes sparkled with unmocking laughter, and Tony nodded. He gripped her hand hard. "I'm sorry, babe. I guess maybe I'm-" He paused and looked around at the rafts bobbing in the
lake. "I don't know what's going to happen or what it will do to my head. It throws me."

  The rafts, five strong now, were bobbing next to the settling

  DC-3 in the middle of a huge lake. It was impossible to tell the actual size of the body of water; perspective was no barrier to Dream Park technology. Chester and Maibang were last into the water, in a raft loaded with bundles of supplies.

  "Which way, Kasan'?"

  The guide looked around in feigned confusion. "This is difficult to say, but I'm not sure."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that this lake isn't what it should be-it's shaped wrong."

  Chester's long face became thoughtful. "Wrong shape. How so?"

  "Chambri Lake is rounder than this. See, two of the shorelines are clearly visible, but the other two edges are lost to our sight." Chester carefully got to his feet, standing precariously balanced as he looked. Just as carefully, he sat back down. "All right, it's not Chambri Lake. What is it?"

  Kasan wagged his head sorrowfully. "Not sure. Very bad magic, I fear." He gazed contemplatively across the lake. "I think we should head to the north shore. It's closest."

  There was a feather touch of suspicion on Chester's face as he nodded assent. "Okay, people, let's move out for the north bank. We can regroup there."

  Two out of the three people on each raft hefted paddles and began guiding their boats ashore. Tony and Acacia provided pro­pulsion for their boat while their passenger, S.J., merrily called, "Stroke! Stroke!"

  It became a race, with Tony and Acacia in second place, behind Eames and his two boatmates, one a Magic User named Alan Leigh, the other the irrepressible Mary-em, who as second paddle did not so much stroke as wrestle the water into submission. Leigh, his pouchy cheeks somewhat incongruous on his spare frame, watched the water ahead of them intently, and when his hand shot into the air all five of the rafts backpaddled to a halt.