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By FRITZ LEIBER
THE BIG TIME
_You can't know there's a war on--for the Snakes coil and Spiders weave to keep you from knowing it's being fought over your live and dead body!_
Illustrated by FINLAY
CHAPTER 1
When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurlyburly's done. When the battle's lost and won.
--Macbeth
ENTER THREE HUSSARS
My name is Greta Forzane. Twenty-nine and a party girl would describeme. I was born in Chicago, of Scandinavian parents, but now I operatechiefly outside space and time--not in Heaven or Hell, if there are suchplaces, but not in the cosmos or universe you know either.
I am not as romantically entrancing as the immortal film star who alsobears my first name, but I have a rough-and-ready charm of my own. Ineed it, for my job is to nurse back to health and kid back to sanitySoldiers badly roughed up in the biggest war going. This war is theChange War, a war of time travelers--in fact, our private name for beingin this war is being on the Big Time. Our Soldiers fight by going backto change the past, or even ahead to change the future, in ways to helpour side win the final victory a billion or more years from now. A longkilling business, believe me.
You don't know about the Change War, but it's influencing your lives allthe time and maybe you've had hints of it without realizing.
Have you ever worried about your memory, because it doesn't seem to bebringing you exactly the same picture of the past from one day to thenext? Have you ever been afraid that your personality was changingbecause of forces beyond your knowledge or control? Have you ever feltsure that sudden death was about to jump you from nowhere? Have you everbeen scared of Ghosts--not the story-book kind, but the billions ofbeings who were once so real and strong it's hard to believe they'lljust sleep harmlessly forever? Have you ever wondered about those thingsyou may call devils or Demons--spirits able to range through all timeand space, through the hot hearts of stars and the cold skeleton ofspace between the galaxies? Have you ever thought that the wholeuniverse might be a crazy, mixed-up dream? If you have, you've had hintsof the Change War.
How I got recruited into the Change War, how it's conducted, what thetwo sides are, why you don't consciously know about it, what I reallythink about it--you'll learn in due course.
* * * * *
The place outside the cosmos where I and my pals do our nursing job Isimply call the Place. A lot of my nursing consists of amusing andhumanizing Soldiers fresh back from raids into time. In fact, my formaltitle is Entertainer and I've got my silly side, as you'll find out.
My pals are two other gals and three guys from quite an assortment oftimes and places. We're a pretty good team, and with Sid bossing, we runa pretty good Recuperation Station, though we have our family troubles.But most of our troubles come slamming into the Place with the beat-upSoldiers, who've generally just been going through hell and want toraise some of their own. As a matter of fact, it was three newly arrivedSoldiers who started this thing I'm going to tell you about, this thingthat showed me so much about myself and everything.
When it started, I had been on the Big Time for a thousand sleeps andtwo thousand nightmares, and working in the Place for five hundred-onethousand. This two-nightmares routine every time you lay down your dizzylittle head is rough, but you pretend to get used to it because being onthe Big Time is supposed to be worth it.
The Place is midway in size and atmosphere between a large nightclubwhere the Entertainers sleep in and a small Zeppelin hangar decoratedfor a party, though a Zeppelin is one thing we haven't had yet. You goout of the Place, but not often if you have any sense and if you are anEntertainer like me, into the cold light of a morning filled withanything from the earlier dinosaurs to the later spacemen, who lookstrangely similar except for size.
Solely on doctor's orders, I have been on cosmic leave six times sincecoming to work at the Place, meaning I have had six brief vacations, ifyou care to call them that, for believe me they are busman's holidays,considering what goes on in the Place all the time. The last one I spentin Renaissance Rome, where I got a crush on Cesare Borgia, but I gotover it. Vacations are for the birds, anyway, because they have to befitted by the Spiders into serious operations of the Change War, and youcan imagine how restful that makes them.
"See those Soldiers changing the past? You stick along with them. Don'tgo too far up front, though, but don't wander off either. Relax andenjoy yourself."
Ha! Now the kind of recuperation Soldiers get when they come to thePlace is a horse of a far brighter color, simply dazzling by comparison.Entertainment is our business and we give them a bang-up time and sendthem staggering happily back into action, though once in a great whilesomething may happen to throw a wee shadow on the party.
* * * * *
I am dead in some ways, but don't let that bother you--I am livelyenough in others. If you met me in the cosmos, you would be more apt toyak with me or try to pick me up than to ask a cop to do same or afather to douse me with holy water, unless you are one of thosehard-boiled reformer types. But you are not likely to meet me in thecosmos, because (bar Basin Street and the Prater) 15th Century Italy andAugustan Rome--until they spoiled it--are my favorite (Ha!) vacationspots and, as I have said, I stick as close to the Place as I can. It isreally the nicest Place in the whole Change World. (Crisis! I even_think_ of it capitalized!)
Anyhoo, when this thing started, I was twiddling my thumbs on the couchnearest the piano and thinking it was too late to do my fingernails andwhoever came in probably wouldn't notice them anyway.
The Place was jumpy like it always is on an approach and the gray velvetof the Void around us was curdled with the uneasy lights you see whenyou close your eyes in the dark.
Sid was tuning the Maintainers for the pick-up and the right shoulder ofhis gold-worked gray doublet was streaked where he'd been wiping hisface on it with quick ducks of his head.
Beauregard was leaning as close as he could over Sid's other shoulder,one white-trousered knee neatly indenting the rose plush of the controldivan, and he wasn't missing a single flicker of Sid's old fingers onthe dials; Beau's co-pilot besides piano player. Beau's face had thatdead blank look it must have had when every double eagle he owned andmore he didn't were riding on the next card to be turned in the gamblingsaloon on one of those wedding-cake Mississippi steamboats.
Doc was soused as usual, sitting at the bar with his top hat pushed backand his knitted shawl pulled around him, his wide eyes seeing whateverhorrors a life in Nazi-occupied Czarist Russia can add to being a drunkDemon in the Change World.
Maud, who is the Old Girl, and Lili--the New Girl, of course--weretelling the big beads of their identical pearl necklaces.
You might say that all us Entertainers were a bit edgy; being Demonsdoesn't automatically make us brave.
Then the red telltale on the Major Maintainer went out and the Doorbegan to darken in the Void facing Sid and Beau, and I felt Change Windsblowing hard and my heart missed a couple of beats, and the next thingthree Soldiers had stepped out of the cosmos and into the Place, theirfirst three steps hitting the floor hard as they changed times andweights.
* * * * *
They were dressed as officers of hussars, as we'd been advised,and--praise the Bonny Dew!--I saw that the first of them was Erich, myown dear little commandant, the pride of the von Hohenwalds and theTerror of the Snakes. Behind him was some hard-faced Roman or other, andbeside Erich and shouldering into him as they
stamped forward was a newboy, blond, with a face like a Greek god who's just been touring aChristian hell.
They were uniformed exactly alike in black--shakos, fur-edged pelisses,boots, and so forth--with white skull emblems on the shakos. The onlydifference between them was that Erich had a Caller on his wrist and theNew Boy had a black-gauntleted glove on his left hand and was clenchingthe mate in it, his right hand being bare like both of Erich's and theRoman's.
"You've made it, lads, hearts of gold," Sid boomed at them, and Beautwitched a smile and murmured something courtly and Maud began to chant,"Shut the Door!" and the New Girl copied her and I joined in because theChange Winds do blow like crazy when the Door is open, even though itcan't ever be shut tight enough to keep them from leaking through.
"Shut it before it blows wrinkles in our faces," Maud called in hergamin voice to break the ice, looking like a skinny teen-ager in thetight, knee-length frock she'd copied from the New Girl.
But the three Soldiers weren't paying attention. The Roman--I rememberedhis name was Mark--was blundering forward stiffly as if there weresomething wrong with his eyes, while Erich and the New Boy were yellingat each other about a kid and Einstein and a summer palace and a bloodyglove and the Snakes having booby-trapped Saint Petersburg. Erich hadthat taut sadistic smile he gets when he wants to hit me.
The New Boy was in a tearing rage. "Why'd you pull us out so bloodyfast? We fair chewed the Nevsky Prospekt to pieces galloping away."
"Didn't you feel their stun guns, _Dummkopf_, when they sprung thetrap--too soon, _Gott sei Dank_?" Erich demanded.
"I did," the New Boy told him. "Not enough to numb a cat. Why didn't youshow us action?"
"Shut up. I'm your leader. I'll show you action enough."
"You won't. You're a filthy Nazi coward."
"_Weibischer Englaender!_"
"Bloody Hun!"
"_Schlange!_"
The blond lad knew enough German to understand that last crack. He threwback his sable-edged pelisse to clear his sword arm and he swung awayfrom Erich, which bumped him into Beau. At the first sign of thequarrel, Beau had raised himself from the divan as quickly and silentlyas a--no, I won't use that word--and slithered over to them.
"Sirs, you forget yourselves," he said sharply, off balance, supportinghimself on the New Boy's upraised arm. "This is Sidney Lessingham'sPlace of Entertainment and Recuperation. There are ladies--"
* * * * *
With a contemptuous snarl, the New Boy shoved him off and snatched withhis bare hand for his saber. Beau reeled against the divan, it caughthim in the shins and he fell toward the Maintainers. Sid whisked themout of the way as if they were a couple of beach radios--simply nothingin the Place is nailed down--and had them back on the coffee tablebefore Beau hit the floor. Meanwhile, Erich had his saber out and hadparried the New Boy's first wild slash and lunged in return, and I heardthe scream of steel and the rutch of his boot on the diamond-studdedpavement.
* * * * *
Beau rolled over and came up pulling from the ruffles of his shirt bosoma derringer I knew was some other weapon in disguise--a stun gun or evenan Atropos. Besides scaring me damp for Erich and everybody, thatbrought me up short: us Entertainers' nerves must be getting as naked asthe Soldiers', probably starting when the Spiders canceled all cosmicleaves twenty sleeps back.
Sid shot Beau his look of command, rapped out, "I'll handle this, youwhoreson firebrand," and turned to the Minor Maintainer. I noticed thatthe telltale on the Major was glowing a reassuring red again, and Ifound a moment to thank Mamma Devi that the Door was shut.
Maud was jumping up and down, cheering I don't know which--nor did she,I bet--and the New Girl was white and I saw that the sabers were workingmore businesslike. Erich's flicked, flicked, flicked again and came awayfrom the blond lad's cheek spilling a couple of red drops. The blond ladlunged fiercely, Erich jumped back, and the next moment they were bothfloating helplessly in the air, twisting like they had cramps.
I realized quick enough that Sid had shut off gravity in the Door andStores sectors of the Place, leaving the rest of us firm on our feet inthe Refresher and Surgery sectors. The Place has sectional gravity tosuit our Extraterrestrial buddies--those crazy ETs sometimes comewhooping in for recuperation in very mixed batches.
From his central position, Sid called out, kindly enough but taking nononsense, "All right, lads, you've had your fun. Now sheathe thoseswords."
For a second or so, the two black hussars drifted and contorted. Erichlaughed harshly and neatly obeyed--the commandant is used to free fall.The blond lad stopped writhing, hesitated while he glared upside down atErich and managed to get his saber into its scabbard, although he turneda slow somersault doing it. Then Sid switched on their gravity, slowenough so they wouldn't get sprained landing.
* * * * *
Erich laughed, lightly this time, and stepped out briskly toward us. Hestopped to clap the New Boy firmly on the shoulder and look him in theface.
"So, now you get a good scar," he said.
The other didn't pull away, but he didn't look up and Erich came on. Sidwas hurrying toward the New Boy, and as he passed Erich, he wagged afinger at him and gayly said, "You rogue." Next thing I was giving Erichmy "Man, you're home" hug and he was kissing me and cracking my ribs andsaying, "_Liebchen! Doppchen!_"--which was fine with me because I dolove him and I'm a good lover and as much a Doubleganger as he is.
We had just pulled back from each other to get a breath--his blue eyeslooked so sweet in his worn face--when there was a thud behind us. Withthe snapping of the tension, Doc had fallen off his bar stool and histop hat was over his eyes. As we turned to chuckle at him, Maud squeakedand we saw that the Roman had walked straight up against the Void andwas marching along there steadily without gaining a foot, like it doeshappen, his black uniform melting into that inside-your-head gray.
Maud and Beau rushed over to fish him back, which can be tricky. Thethin gambler was all courtly efficiency again. Sid supervised from adistance.
"What's wrong with him?" I asked Erich.
He shrugged. "Overdue for Change Shock. And he was nearest the stunguns. His horse almost threw him. _Mein Gott_, you should have seenSaint Petersburg, _Liebchen_: the Nevsky Prospekt, the canals flying bylike reception carpets of blue sky, a cavalry troop in blue and goldthat blundered across our escape, fine women in furs and ostrich plumes,a monk with a big tripod and his head under a hood--it gave me thehorrors seeing all those Zombies flashing past and staring at me in thatsick unawakened way they have, and knowing that some of them, say thephotographer, might be Snakes."
Our side in the Change War is the Spiders, the other side is the Snakes,though all of us--Spiders and Snakes alike--are Doublegangers and Demonstoo, because we're cut out of our lifelines in the cosmos. Your lifelineis all of you from birth to death. We're Doublegangers because we canoperate both in the cosmos and outside of it, and Demons because we actreasonably alive while doing so--which the Ghosts don't. Entertainersand Soldiers are all Demon-Doublegangers, whichever side they'reon--though they say the Snake Places are simply ghastly. Zombies aredead people whose lifelines lie in the so-called past.
* * * * *
"What were you doing in Saint Petersburg before the ambush?" I askedErich. "That is, if you can talk about it."
"Why not? We were kidnapping the infant Einstein back from the Snakes in1883. Yes, the Snakes got him, _Liebchen_, only a few sleeps back,endangering the West's whole victory over Russia--"
"--which gave your dear little Hitler the world on a platter for fiftyyears and got me loved to death by your sterling troops in theLiberation of Chicago--"
"--but which leads to the ultimate victory of the Spiders and the Westover the Snakes and Communism, _Liebchen_, remember that. Anyway, ourcounter-snatch didn't work. The Snakes had guards posted--most unusualand we weren't warned. The whole thing was a
great mess. No wonder Brucelost his head--not that it excuses him."
"The New Boy?" I asked. Sid hadn't got to him and he was still standingwith hooded eyes where Erich had left him, a dark pillar of shame andrage.
"_Ja_, a lieutenant from World War One. An Englishman."
"I gathered that," I told Erich. "Is he really effeminate?"
"_Weibischer?_" He smiled. "I had to call him something when he said Iwas a coward. He'll make a fine Soldier--only needs a little moreshaping."
"You men are so original when you spat." I lowered my voice. "But youshouldn't have gone on and called him a Snake, Erich mine."
"_Schlange?_" The smile got crooked. "Who knows--about any of us? AsSaint Petersburg showed me, the Snakes' spies are getting cleverer thanours." The blue eyes didn't look sweet now. "Are you, _Liebchen_, reallynothing more than a good loyal Spider?"
"Erich!"
"All right, I went too far--with Bruce and with you too. We're allhacked these days, riding with one leg over the breaking edge."
Maud and Beau were supporting the Roman to a couch, Maud taking most ofhis weight, with Sid still supervising and the New Boy still sulking byhimself. The New Girl should have been with him, of course, but Icouldn't see her anywhere and I decided she was probably having anervous breakdown in the Refresher, the little jerk.
"The Roman looks pretty bad, Erich," I said.
"Ah, Mark's tough. Got virtue, as his people say. And our littlestarship girl will bring him back to life if anybody can and if ..."
"... you call this living," I filled in dutifully.
* * * * *
He was right. Maud had fifty-odd years of psychomedical experience, 23rdCentury at that. It should have been Doc's job, but that was fiftydrunks back.
"Maud and Mark, that will be an interesting experiment," Erich said."Reminiscent of Goering's with the frozen men and the naked gypsygirls."
"You are a filthy Nazi. She'll be using electrophoresis and deepsuggestion, if I know anything."
"How will you be able to know anything, _Liebchen_, if she switches onthe couch curtains, as I perceive she is preparing to do?"
"Filthy Nazi I said and meant."
"Precisely." He clicked his heels and bowed a millimeter. "ErichFriederich von Hohenwald, _Oberleutnant_ in the army of the Third Reich.Fell at Narvik, where he was Recruited by the Spiders. Lifelinelengthened by a Big Change after his first death and at latest reportCommandant of Toronto, where he maintains extensive baby farms toprovide him with breakfast meat, if you believe the handbills of the_voyageurs_ underground. At your service."
"Oh, Erich, it's all so lousy," I said, touching his hand, reminded thathe was one of the unfortunates Resurrected from a point in theirlifelines well before their deaths--in his case, because the date of hisdeath had been shifted forward by a Big Change after his Resurrection.And as every Demon finds out, if he can't imagine it beforehand, it ispure hell to remember your future, and the shorter the time between yourResurrection and your death back in the cosmos, the better. Mine, blessBab-ed-Din, was only an action-packed ten minutes on North Clark Street.
Erich put his other hand lightly over mine. "Fortunes of the Change War,_Liebchen_. At least I'm a Soldier and sometimes assigned to futureoperations--though why we should have this monomania about our futurepersonalities back there, I don't know. Mine is a stupid _Oberst_, thinas paper--and frightfully indignant at the _voyageurs_! But it helps mea little if I see him in perspective and at least I get back to thecosmos pretty regularly, _Gott sei Dank_, so I'm better off than youEntertainers."
I didn't say aloud that a Changing cosmos is worse than none, but Ifound myself sending a prayer to the Bonny Dew for my father's repose,that the Change Winds would blow lightly across the lifeline of Anton A.Forzane, professor of physiology, born in Norway and buried in Chicago.Woodlawn Cemetery is a nice gray spot.
"That's all right, Erich," I said. "We Entertainers Got Mittens too."
He scowled around at me suspiciously, as if he were wondering whether Ihad all my buttons on.
"Mittens?" he said. "What do you mean? I'm not wearing any. Are youtrying to say something about Bruce's gloves--which incidentally seem toannoy him for some reason. No, seriously, Greta, why do you Entertainersneed mittens?"
"Because we get cold feet sometimes. At least I do. Got Mittens, as Isay."
* * * * *
A sickly light dawned in his Prussian puss. He muttered, "Got mittens... _Gott mit uns_ ... God with us," and roared softly, "Greta, I don'tknow how I put up with you, the way you murder a great language forcheap laughs."
"You've got to take me as I am," I told him, "mittens and all, thank theBonny Dew--" and hastily explained, "That's French--_le bon Dieu_--thegood God--don't hit me. I'm not going to tell you any more of mysecrets."
He laughed feebly, like he was dying.
"Cheer up," I said. "I won't be here forever, and there are worse placesthan the Place."
He nodded grudgingly, looking around. "You know what, Greta, if you'llpromise not to make some dreadful joke out of it: on operations, Ipretend I'll soon be going backstage to court the world-famous ballerinaGreta Forzane."
He was right about the backstage part. The Place is a regulartheater-in-the-round with the Void for an audience, the Void's grayhardly disturbed by the screens masking Surgery (Ugh!), Refresher andStores. Between the last two are the bar and kitchen and Beau's piano.Between Surgery and the sector where the Door usually appears are theshelves and taborets of the Art Gallery. The control divan is stagecenter. Spaced around at a fair distance are six big low couches--onewith its curtains now shooting up into the gray--and a few small tables.It is like a ballet set and the crazy costumes and characters that turnup don't ruin the illusion. By no means. Diaghilev would have hired mostof them for the Ballet Russe on first sight, without even asking themwhether they could keep time to music.