Juggler of Worlds

Chapter oneSigmund Ausfaller woke up shivering, prone on a cold floor. His head pounded. Tape bound his wrists and ankles to plasteel chains.He had always known it would end horribly. Only the when, where, how, why, and by whom of it all had eluded him.That fog was beginning to lift.How had he gotten here, whereverherewas? As though from a great distance, Sigmund watched himself quest for recent memories. Why was it such a struggle?He remembered the pedestrian concourse of an open-air mall, shoppers streaming. They wore every color of the rainbow, clothing and hair and skin, in every conceivable combination and pattern. Overhead, fluffy clouds scudded across a clear blue sky. The sun was warm on his face. Work, for once, had been laid aside. He'd been content.Happiness is the sworn enemy of vigilance. How could he have been so careless?Sigmund forced open his eyes. He was in a nearly featureless room. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were resilient plastic. Light came from one wall. I could be anywhere, Sigmund thought-and then two details grabbed his attention.The room wasn't quite a box. The glowing wall had a bit of a curve to it.There were recessed handholds in walls, floor, and ceiling.Panic struck. He was on aspaceship! Was gravity a hair higher than usual? Lower? He couldn't tell.Plasteel chains clattered dully as Sigmund sat up. He had watched enough old movies to expect chains to clink. Even as the room spun around him and everything faded to black, he found the energy to feel cheated.COLD PLASTIC PRESSED AGAINST Sigmund's cheek. He opened his eyes a crack to see the same spartan room. Cell.This time he noticed that one link of his chains had been fused to a handhold in the deck.Had he passed out from a panic attack?Where was he?Sigmund forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply until the new episode receded. Fear could only muddy his thoughts. More deep breaths.He had never before blacked out from panic. He could not believe thathisblackout stemmed from panic. Yes, his faint had closely followed the thought he might be aboard a spaceship. Italsohad occurred just after he had sat up. Sigmund remembered his thoughts having been fuzzy. They seemed sharper now.He'd been drugged! Doped up and barely awake, he'd sat up too fast.Thatwas why he had passed out.More cautiously this time, Sigmund got into a sitting position. His head throbbed. He considered the pain dispassionately. Less disabling than the last time, he decided. Perhaps the drugs were wearing off.Some odd corner of his mind felt shamed by his panic attacks. Most Earthborn had flatland phobia worse than he, and so what? True, he'd been born on Earth, but his parents had been all over Known Space. Somehow they took pleasure in strange scents, unfamiliar night skies, and wrong gravity.On principle, Sigmund had been to the moon twice. He had had to know: Could he leave Earth should the need ever arise? The second time, it was to make sure the success of that first trip wasn't a fluke.He listened carefully. The soft whir of a ventilation fan. Hints of conversation, unintelligible. His own heartbeat. None of the background powerplant hum that permeated the spaceships he'd been on. Gravity felt as normal as his senses could judge.Recognizing facts, spotting patterns, drawing inferences . . . he managed, but slowly, as though his thoughts swam through syrup. Traces of drugs remained in his system. He forced himself to concentrate.If this was a ship, it was still on Earth. Someonemeantto panic him, Sigmund decided. Someone wanted something from him. Until they got it, he'd probably remain alive.They.For as long as Sigmund could remember, there had always been sometheyto worry about.But even as Sigmund formed that thoughNiven, Larry is the author of 'Juggler of Worlds' with ISBN 9780765318268 and ISBN 0765318261.