Free Transport

By Hugh Pendexter III

When Tom Rangely saw Dr. Baker disappear from the Philosophy one hour exam, he embroiled himself in both the personal and the political problems raised by a mans ability to separate his consciousness from his body and then materialize himself in a new location teleportation. What happens when one teleports without his clothes? What happens if one unintentionally materializes in the middle of a Chinese Politburo meeting? What happens if someone discovers that he can kill by a mental stroke while he is disembodied? Is kissing improved as minds are merged? Is the Pentagon ready for Free Transport to Mars?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 22, 2001
• ISBN: 9780759649187

Hugh Pendexter III

Publications Poems The Pantessey --- A mock epic about a panty raid A Prosody --- Study of poetic forms -- examples from my poetry Adventures and Venturers Poems of the Sacred Academic Observatiions Hail Suburbia! Poems of Affection Doctor Faustus and Other Poems Children's books Tales of the Croicheted Cat Oz and the Three Witches Farhold Island The Crocheted Cat in Oz Wooglet in Oz Fantasy Novels Free Transport The Fumbling Rescuer The Fumbling Kingmaker The Paladin's Rogues The Quince Quest

Book preview

© 2001 by Hugh Pendexter III. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 0-75964-919-7

1stBooks-rev. 8/28/01

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1   BREAKING FREE

CHAPTER 2   EXPERIMENTS

CHAPTER 3   FIRST TRIP

CHAPTER 4   DOC TACKLES THE PENTAGON

CHAPTER 5   TRAINING

CHAPTER 6   THE MENACE

CHAPTER 7   SKIRMISHES

CHAPTER 8   THE BATTLE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedication

To My Lifelong friend Archie

CHAPTER 1

BREAKING FREE

When Doc Baker gives an hour exam in philosophy 101, nobody has time to take his fingers off his terminal keyboard. As a matter of fact, I would never have seen Doc’s crazy exit if I’d been prepared for his brutal exam. The little I knew kept me busy halfway through the hour; then I looked up and stared blankly at Doc, wishing I could read his mind. No inspiration! Then I got to thinking what an insignificant character he was to have the whole campus scared of him. Most of us would give a lot to duck around Phil 101, but he had the administration buncoed into thinking everybody ought to be required to take logic. And the old goat made the course even rougher than freshman English.

Well, I sat there watching him stare into space with that vacant look of his, when all of a sudden he wasn’t there at all. I don’t mean I went back to my exam and he was gone next time I looked up. I didn’t even blink my eyes and lose him while they were shut. One minute he was sitting there, and then all of a sudden while I was looking, he got sort of blurry, and then he wasn’t there at all. I felt a sudden chill as if somebody had opened a freezer door; a sharp breeze blew toward his platform, and he was gone.

I gulped and looked around to see if anybody else had noticed, but they all had their noses down and their fingers tapping. Old Doc doesn’t believe in multiple choice questions; he makes everybody pull the answer out of nowhere, and then put it into good English. He even knocks off points for bad grammar. So when you take an exam from him, you rattle those keys and save time at the end for a spelling check.

I started to get up and investigate, but I figured it would be hard to explain if he walked in and caught me snooping around his console. I could just imagine that quiet voice of his, I don’t usually write the answers in my chair, Mr. Rangely. So I sat there with my mouth open, looked at the empty chair, and listened to the clacking keyboards.

Then, ten minutes later, the door opened and Doc Baker walked in with his raincoat on. I looked around the room again. Somebody else must be watching! But nobody was. I looked back at him and his eyes met mine. For the first time in my experience he didn’t stare me down, but shifted his eyes away. He looked shaky.

But that’s not what really hit me. There was something wrong about his get-up. Then I realized that his bare legs were showing under his overcoat, like he was wearing a bathrobe. I thought, My God, the old guy’s turned flasher.

He stopped by his console for a good two minutes, watching me sidewise. I thought maybe he was waiting for me to stop staring at him, so I pretended to be studying my screen again; but I peeked up through my eyebrows. He went over to the desk chair, picked up a bundle of clothes and a pair of shoes, and walked out of the room.

A few minutes later he slipped in, all dressed again, and sat down. I never saw the man look so upset. I could see I made it worse by watching him, so I tried to wrestle with the exam again. But I could no more think about Aristotle than I could pull that disappearing trick of his.

Finally the signal light in the back of the classroom blinked, and he stood up and flicked the master switch on the console. Our terminal screens all flashed, Saving, and went blank. That was the end of the test. One thing about old Baker, when the exam’s over it’s over, and there’s none of this apple-polishing around, pretending you have more to write. So we all got up, handed in our diskettes, and took off.

I dawdled so that I could walk out last. He looked at me closely as he pressed the release button and retrieved the question disk from the console. He didn’t take his eyes off me while he slipped the disk into its jacket and tucked it into its slot in his carrying case. He reached for my answer disk and fitted it into a slot next to everybody else’s answers.

You saw? He dropped the diskette case into his battered old leather briefcase and stepped off the console platform.

Yes sir.

How much?

Everything I think, sir. You disappeared…

That’s enough, he said softly. Come into my office please. He picked up his briefcase and led the way out and down the corridor to the door with his name on it. He unlocked it and ushered me in, locking the door behind us. The click of the lock made me edgy, but I didn’t panic.

Sit down. He motioned me to an ancient overstuffed chair beside his desk. He went around behind the desk, plopped his briefcase on the scratched corner where it lived, and collapsed into the swivel chair.

I gather you were not too well prepared for the examination. He opened the lap drawer and reached into it.

I had a bad minute there. What if he was mixed up in some sort of racket and I’d caught him at it? I could imagine a gun, but what came out was a manila envelope that looked like he’d stuffed some clothes in it. He laid it on the desk beside the briefcase.

I don’t have much time, he said. They’ll be in here in another couple of minutes. I was sure from the way you watched me that you had seen. He examined my face for another minute. I’ll have to trust you, he said finally, and extended the envelope toward me. Will you take this and keep it for me until tonight?

I looked at the envelope and gulped.

It isn’t explosive, he said. You may open it when you get to your room, but please say nothing about how you got it or what you’ve seen. This evening, if you’ll bring it to my house, I’ll explain everything.

But what’s…

Please go now. I’ll explain tonight, but I don’t want them to find you here-with that. He rose, thrust the envelope into my hands, and shoved me out into the hall. Get out of the building as fast as you can. Use the back door. And don’t tell anybody anything. He slammed the door behind me, and I made my way as quickly as I could back to my dorm.

Hi Tom! Jim Bagshaw yelled and slapped me on the shoulder as I charged into the dorm lounge. Good show on tonight.

Sorry, I’ve got another date.

Date? That’s news. Who’s the brawd?

Ms. Snagwell’s door opened. (She’s our housemother.)

Gentlemen, you should moderate your voices, she said.

Yes’m, I returned.

Oh hell, it’s not quiet hours yet, Jim bellowed at her.

Mr. Bagshaw, this is not the place for profanity.

I could see he was going to needle her into an explosion, so I started up the stairs to keep out of trouble. But Jim grabbed my arm so suddenly that the envelope flew out of my hand and landed at Ms. Snagwell’s feet. As it hit the floor, the envelope flew open and revealed a crumpled bundle of sheer acrylic and lace.

And what is this? demanded Ms. Snagwell.

I don’t know, I said truthfully.

Oh? She stooped and picked up the frilly pink thing that had spilled from the envelope. And where did you get this negligee?

Negligee? Just what had old Doc Baker been up to?

Negligee, she repeated ruthlessly. And don’t tell me you bought it for your girl friend because it isn’t new.

Oh, I said.

Well?

You must be really making out, Jim hissed in my ear. What have you been up to, a one-man panty raid?

What was that? Ms. Snagwell could hear a roach on a bedspread.

Nothing.

You said, ‘Panty raid.’ I distinctly heard you. She glared at both of us.

Look, it’s none of your damned business, you old bitch, I yelled at her. Now give it back.

Not on your life, she screamed back at me. If you hoodlums can’t be civil to me, we’ll see what the Dean thinks about it.

Clutching the negligee, she stamped into her apartment and slammed the door.

Jim drooped like last week’s gardenia. I’m sorry if I got you into a mess.

Not half so sorry as I am, I said as I started upstairs. Why can’t you mind your own business? I could see the whole story coming out the next day. I’d get a call from the Dean and have to face some strange girl and explain to everybody how I’d got her negligee.

Why couldn’t I have gone to college back in the good old days of co-ed dorms and no campus snoops? I fumed.

These new regulations aren’t really doing anything to stop the AIDS epidemic, and they sure raise hell with privacy. Some colleges took moderate steps, like quiet hours and separate wings for men and women. But there’s nothing moderate about Largo State. They went all the way back to the dark ages of the 1940’s with housemothers, proctors, and even compulsory blood tests every year as part of the re-admission physical.

Now how was I going to explain the negligee without dragging in Doc Baker? I started to put my key in the door.

Of course, Doc Baker! I shoved the key back in my pocket. He got me into this, I thought, and he’s damn well going to have to get me out. I stumbled back down the stairs, and nearly knocked Ms. Snagwell down as she barged out of her room into the lounge.

Wait a minute, young man, she seized my arm. You’re not going anywhere.

I beg your pardon, I said, trying to keep my temper. No use making her any madder.

None of your soft soap. You’re restricted to the dormitory until we’ve looked into this matter.

You don’t have the authority, I told her. Now get your hooks off my arm before…

I’ve called the Dean, she broke in, and he told me to hang on to you. She started to drag me to her apartment. I remembered what I’d learned in the hand-to-hand combat class I was taking for freshman gym. If somebody grabs you, always break toward the thumbs, Coach told us. Making sure the front door was clear, I twisted my arm sharply toward her thumbs, broke loose, and dashed out. Fortunately I had presence of mind to turn left instead of going straight. By the time she got to the door, I had ducked out of sight around the corner of Wilson Hall and was legging it for Doc Baker’s house.

Why yes, Mrs. Baker said as she answered the door. Doctor Baker said he was expecting someone this evening, but it’s only three o’clock.

Is he home now? I’ve got to talk to him right away.

No, he isn’t. He usually gets home early in the afternoon, but he phoned me that he has a meeting with the Dean today and won’t be back until late.

Can I wait for him, please. It’s urgent. I didn’t want the campus cops to catch me before I’d talked to him, and I was afraid Ms. Snagwell was mad enough to risk demanding a campus-wide alert.

You seem awfully upset, young man, she said. Come in and sit in his study if you want to, but don’t let grades worry you so. I realize Doctor is strict, but he’s never unfair, you know.

I let her think it was grades. At least I was safely upstairs in his study, and I sat there for an hour and a half chewing my finger ends where the nails ought to be. When he arrived, he looked haggard.

What brings you here so early? he asked as he settled into his lounge chair and pulled off his shoes. Then he groped under the chair until he located a battered pair of crocheted slippers.

I told him about the negligee.

That really puts the chocolate sauce on the spaghetti, he muttered. I have just finished convincing the dean that the young lady suffered a hallucination. But with your housemother holding the negligee, you’re going to be hard to explain.

Frankly sir, not half as hard as you are.

Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right. He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair. You’d best stay for dinner, Mr. Rangely-ah-perhaps I’d better call you Tom. These formalities are beginning to sound a little foolish for accomplices. He went out and called downstairs to his wife.

Now Walter, she yelled back, remember it’s my night to have the Faculty Dames, so don’t get any ideas about a long meal.

That’s all right, my dear. We’ll come up to the study right away and stay out from under foot. He came back in. I suppose you have a right to know everything, since I’ve got you into this.

He settled into his chair again.

Now, this morning while you were daydreaming through my examination, you saw me disappear.

I nodded.

Did anything else happen-a popping sound or anything like that?

I tried to think back. No popping, I’m sure, I said at last.

Anything?

Well, you got sort of indistinct, and then I felt cold all of a sudden, and there was a draft. In fact it blew a couple of papers off the table by the window. Do you think you caused it?

I think it’s pretty likely, he said. I assume the draft was blowing toward my chair. After all I must have left a bit of a vacuum. He leaned forward eagerly. What do you know about teleportation?

I gawked at him. You mean you were teleported out of class?

Unfortunately, I teleported myself.

Unfortunately?

It was an accident.

I don’t get it. You mean you weren’t trying to go anywhere?

I hadn’t dreamed I could. He got up and began pacing back and forth. I’ve known for several years that it is possible to travel mentally anywhere I want to, just by controlled thinking. I’ve been all over the earth and even to the moon, but I never dreamed it would be possible to take the body along.

Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You can send your mind around even to places where you’ve never been? Not just remembering?

It’s like remembering, only it goes much farther than that. I attended the whole World Series last fall, leaving my body asleep in this chair. I discovered, about three years ago, that by disciplining myself I could leave the body and go from my office into the one next door, not merely remembering what it looked like, but actually seeing what was going on right then. After that, I began experimenting and found I could go to places I’d never seen-look around corners I’d never turned. Afterwards I went to a lot of the places physically to make sure I’d really seen them right. Gradually it got to be a kind of game, and I’ve traveled rather widely.

Then you haven’t really been here when you were proctoring exams all year?

No, at least not all the time. I find the tops of freshman heads a bit of a bore, and I can’t resist the temptation to let my mind wander. I find myself traveling before I think.

But where was your mind wandering that you picked up the negligee?

Dr. Baker’s face flushed. Frankly, I guess I’d better keep closer watch on where I’m thinking, he confessed. I found myself in the upstairs corridor of Clearbrook Hall, and suddenly I had my body with me.

The girl’s dorm! I bet there was some screaming. I almost forgot my own mess in imagining the girls’ reaction.

Unfortunately that was not the worst, Dr. Baker continued. I had teleported the body without my clothes. They were still on my chair in the classroom.

I gasped. Was there anybody in the hall?

"One girl. She ran shrieking down the stairs for the housemother, and I ducked into the first unlocked room I could find. Thank heaven there was nobody home. I tried to think myself back into the classroom, and then realized that I couldn’t go back naked. I could hear people thundering up the stairs; so I locked the door and got into the clothes closet. As I went in, that negligee fell off the hook, and I wrapped it around me to get some kind of cover. I could hear them trying doors, and one voice, the girl who’d seen me, yelling above all the rest that it was Dr. Baker; she was sure of it. I suppose she must be one of my students, though with the current fad for hair lacquering and mask makeup, I can’t tell one girl from another. With all the excitement and noise I couldn’t concentrate enough to think myself out of the closet even to explore the next room in preparation for escape.

Then I thought of my office. I know it so well that I wouldn’t have to do any mental exploration; so I just concentrated on seeing this place. Meantime they found the girl whose room I’d locked, and she opened the door. I think somebody actually looked into the closet before I finally got out of there and into my office, but at least there were no more screams.

And that’s why you wanted to get rid of the negligee? I interrupted. You figured that with the girl yelling about you, they’d come trooping over to