The good new stuff, p.67
The Good New Stuff, page 67
“Datavise Wai and Schutz, get them out first. Then try for the captain.”
“Okay. Get Roman, and go down to the airlock chamber; I’ll authorize the weapons cabinet to release some maser carbines … Shit!”
“What?”
“I can’t. Marcus has the flight computer command codes. We can’t even fire the thrusters without him.”
Deck 14 appeared no different to any other as Marcus and Victoria wandered through it. The corridors were broad, and there were few doorways.
“About 60 per cent is sealed off,” Marcus datavised. “This must be a major engineering level.”
“Yeah. There’s so many cables around here I’m having trouble cataloguing the grid.” She was wiping a magnetic sensor block slowly from side to side as they walked.
His communication block reported it was receiving an encrypted signal from the Lady Mac. Sheer surprise made him halt. He retrieved the appropriate code file from a neural nanonics memory cell.
“Captain?”
“What’s the problem, Katherine?”
“You’ve got to get back to the ship. Now, Captain, and make sure Victoria doesn’t come with you.”
“Why?”
“Captain, this is Karl. The array satellites are looking for pitchblende, not gold or platinum. Antonio’s people are terrorists, they want to build fission bombs.”
Marcus focused his collar sensors on Victoria, who was waiting a couple of meters down the corridor. “Where’s Schutz and Wai?”
“On their way back,” Katherine datavised. “They should be here in another five minutes.”
“Okay, it’s going to take me at least half an hour to get back.” He didn’t like to think about climbing 14 flights of stairs fast, not in this gravity. “Start prepping the ship.”
“Captain, Karl thinks they’re probably armed.”
Marcus’s communication block reported another signal coming on line.
“Karl is quite right,” Jorge datavised. “We are indeed armed; and we also have excellent processor blocks and decryption programs. Really, Captain, this code of yours is at least three years out of date.”
Marcus saw Victoria turn towards him. “Care to comment on the pitchblende?” he asked.
“I admit, the material would have been of some considerable use to us,” Jorge replied. “But of course, this wreck has changed the Confederation beyond recognition, has it not, Captain?”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely. And so we no longer require the pitchblende.”
“That’s a very drastic switch of allegiance.”
“Please, Captain, do not be facetious. The satellites were left on purely for your benefit; we didn’t wish to alarm you.”
“Thank you for your consideration.”
“Captain,” Katherine datavised. “Schutz and Wai are in the airlock.”
“I do hope you’re not proposing to leave without us,” Jorge datavised. “That would be most unwise.”
“You were going to kill us,” Karl datavised.
“That is a hysterical claim. You would not have been hurt.”
“As long as we obeyed, and helped you slaughter thousands of people.”
Marcus wished Karl would stop being quite so blunt. He had few enough options as it was.
“Come now, Captain,” Jorge said. “The Lady Macbeth is combat-capable; are you telling me you have never killed people in political disputes?”
“We’ve fought. But only against other ships.”
“Don’t try and claim the moral high ground, Captain. War is war, no matter how it is fought.”
“Only when it’s between soldiers; anything else is terrorism.”
“I assure you, we have put our old allegiance behind us. I ask you to do the same. This quarrel is foolish in the extreme. We both have so much to gain.”
And you’re armed, Marcus filled in silently. Jorge and Antonio were supposed to be inspecting decks 12 and 13. It would be tough if not impossible getting back to the airlock before them. But I can’t trust them on Lady Mac.
“Captain, they’re moving,” Katherine datavised. “The communication block in stairwell three has acquired them, strength one. They must be coming up.”
“Victoria,” Jorge datavised. “Restrain the captain and bring him to the airlock. I advise all of you on the ship to remain calm, we can still find a peaceful solution to this situation.”
Unarmed combat programs went primary in Marcus’s neural nanonics. The black, featureless figure opposite him didn’t move.
“Your call,” he datavised. According to his tactical analysis program she had few choices. Jorge’s order implied she was armed, though a scan of her utility belt didn’t reveal anything obvious other than a standard fission blade. If she went for a gun he would have an attack window. If she didn’t, then he could probably stay ahead of her. She was a lot younger, but his geneered physique should be able to match her in this gravity field.
Victoria dropped the sensor block she was carrying, and moved her hand to her belt. She grabbed the multipurpose power tool and started to bring it up.
Marcus slammed into her, using his greater mass to throw her off balance. She was hampered by trying to keep her grip on the tool. His impact made her sway sideways, then the fierce xenoc gravity took over. She toppled helplessly, falling fast. The power tool was swinging around to point at him. Marcus kicked her hand, and the unit skittered away. It didn’t slide far, the gravity saw to that.
Victoria landed with a terrible thud. Her neural nanonics medical monitor program flashed up an alert that the impact had broken her collar bone. Axon blocks came on line, muting all but the briefest pulse of pain. It was her program again which made her twist around to avoid any follow-on blow; her conscious mind was almost unaware of the fact she was still moving. A hand scrabbled for the power tool. She snatched it and sat up. Marcus was disappearing down a side corridor. She fired at him before the targeting program even gave her an overlay grid.
“Jorge,” she datavised. “I’ve lost him.”
“Then get after him.”
Marcus’s collar sensors showed him a spray of incendiary droplets fizzing out of the wall barely a meter behind him. The multipurpose tool must be some kind of laser pistol. “Katherine,” he datavised. “Retract Lady Mac’s airlock tube. Now. Close the outer hatch and codelock it. They are not to come on board.”
“Acknowledged. How do we get you back?”
“Yes, Captain,” Jorge datavised. “Do tell.”
Marcus dodged down a junction. “Have Wai stand by. When I need her, I’ll need her fast.”
“You think you can cut your way out of the shell, Captain? You have a fission blade, and that shell is held together by a molecular bonding generator.”
“You touch him, shithead, and we’ll fry that wreck,” Karl datavised. “Lady Mac’s got maser cannons.”
“But do you have the command codes, I wonder. Captain?”
“Communication silence,” Marcus ordered. “When I want you, I’ll call.”
Jorge’s boosted muscles allowed him to ascend stairwell three at a speed which Antonio could never match. He was soon left struggling along behind. The airlock was the tactical high ground; once he had secured that, Jorge knew he’d won. As he climbed his hands moved automatically, assembling the weapon from various innocuous-looking pieces of equipment he was carrying on his utility belt.
“Victoria?” he datavised. “Have you got him?”
“No. He broke my shoulder, the bastard. I’ve lost him.”
“Go to the nearest stairwell, I expect that’s what he’s done. Antonio, go back and meet her. Then start searching for him.”
“Is that a joke?” Antonio asked. “He could be anywhere.”
“No, he’s not. He has to come up. Up is where the airlock is.”
“Yes, but—”
“Don’t argue. And when you find him, don’t kill him. We have to have him alive. He’s our ticket out. Our only ticket, understand?”
“Yes, Jorge.”
When he reached the airlock, Jorge closed the inner hatch and cycled the chamber. The outer hatch dilated to show him the Lady Macbeth’s fuselage 15 meters away. Her airlock tube had retracted, and the fuselage shield was in place.
“This is a no-win stand-off,” he datavised. “Captain, please come up to the airlock. You have to deal with me, you have no choice. The three of us will leave our weapons over here, and then we can all go back on board together. And when we return to a port none of us will mention this unfortunate incident again. That is reasonable, surely?”
Schutz had just reached the bridge when they received Jorge’s datavise.
“Damn! He’s disconnected our cable from the communication block,” Karl said. “We can’t call the captain now even if we wanted to.”
Schutz rolled in mid air above his acceleration couch and landed gently on the cushioning. Restraint webbing slithered over him.
“What the hell do we do now?” Roman asked. “Without the command codes we’re bloody helpless.”
“It wouldn’t take that long for us to break open the weapons cabinet,” Schutz said. “They haven’t got the captain. We can go over there and hunt them down with the carbines.”
“I can’t sanction that,” Katherine said. “God knows what sort of weapons they have.”
“Sanction it? We put it to the vote.”
“It’s my duty watch. Nobody votes on anything. The last order the captain gave us was to wait. We wait.” She datavised the flight computer for a channel to the MSV Wai, status please?”
“Powering up. I’ll be ready for a flight in two minutes.”
“Thank you.”
“We have to do something!” Karl said.
“For a start you can calm down,” Katherine told him. “We’re not going to help Marcus by doing anything rash. He obviously had something in mind when he told Wai to get ready.”
The hatchway to the captain’s cabin slid open. Marcus air-swam out and grinned around at their stupefied expressions. “Actually, I didn’t have any idea what to do when I said that. I was stalling.”
“How the hell did you get back on board?” Roman yelped.
Marcus looked at Katherine and gave her a lopsided smile. “By being right, I’m afraid. The dish is a distress beacon.”
“So what?” she whispered numbly.
He drifted over to his acceleration couch and activated the webbing. “It means the wormhole doesn’t go back to the xenoc homeworld.”
“You found out how to use it!” Karl exclaimed. “You opened its other end inside the Lady Mac.”
“No. There is no other end. Yes, they built it as part of their survival operation. It was their escape route, you were right about that. But it doesn’t go somewhere; it goes somewhen.”
Instinct had brought Marcus to the portal chamber. It was as good as any other part of the ship. Besides, the xenocs had escaped their predicament from here. In a remote part of his mind he assumed that ending up on their homeworld was preferable to capture here by Jorge. It wasn’t the kind of choice he wanted to make.
He walked slowly around the portal. The pale violet emanation in the air around it remained constant, hazing the dull surface from perfect observation. That and a faint hum were the only evidence of the massive quantity of power it consumed. Its eternal stability a mocking enigma.
Despite all the logic of argument he knew Katherine was wrong. Why build the dish if you had this ability? And why keep it operational?
That factor must have been important to them. It had been built in the center of the ship, and built to last. They’d even reconfigured the wreck to ensure it lasted. Fine, they needed reliability, and they were masters of material science. But a one-off piece of emergency equipment lasting 13,000 years? There must be a reason, and the only logical one was that they knew they would need it to remain functional so they could come back one day.
The SII suit prevented him from smiling as realization dawned. But it did reveal a shiver ripple along his limbs as the cold wonder of the knowledge struck home.
On the Lady Mac’s bridge, Marcus said: “We originally assumed that the xenocs would just go into zero-tau and wait for a rescue ship; because that’s what we would do. But their technology allows them to take a much different approach to engineering problems.”
“The wormhole leads into the future,” Roman said in astonishment.
“Almost. It doesn’t lead anywhere but back to itself, so the length inside it represents time not space. As long as the portal exists you can travel through it. The xenocs went in just after they built the dish and came out again when their rescue ship arrived. That’s why they built the portal to survive so long. It had to carry them through a great deal of time.”
“How does that help you get here?” Katherine asked. “You’re trapped over in the xenoc wreckage right now, not in the past.”
“The wormhole exists as long as the portal does. It’s an open tube to every second of that entire period of existence; you’re not restricted which way you travel through it.”
In the portal chamber Marcus approached one of the curving black buttress legs. The artificial gravity was off directly underneath the doughnut so the xenocs could rise into it. But they had been intent on traveling into the future.
He started to climb the buttress. The first section was the steepest; he had to clamp his hands behind it, and haul himself up. Not easy in that gravity field. It gradually curved over, flattening out at the top, leaving him standing above the doughnut. He balanced there precariously, very aware of the potentially lethal fall down onto the floor.
The doughnut didn’t look any different from this position, a glowing ring surrounding the gray pressure membrane. Marcus put one foot over the edge of the exotic matter, and jumped.
He fell clean through the pressure membrane. There was no gravity field in the wormhole, although every movement suddenly became very sluggish. To his waving limbs it felt as if he was immersed in some kind of fluid, though his sensor block reported a perfect vacuum.
The wormhole wall was insubstantial, difficult to see in the meager backscatter of light from the pressure membrane. Five narrow lines of yellow light materialized, spaced equidistantly around the wall. They stretched from the rim of the pressure membrane up to a vanishing point some indefinable distance away.
Nothing else happened. Marcus drifted until he reached the wall, which his hand adhered to as though the entire surface was one giant stikpad. He crawled his way back to the pressure membrane. When he stuck his hand through, there was no resistance. He pushed his head out.
There was no visible difference to the chamber outside. He datavised his communication block to search for a signal. It told him there was only the band from one of the relay blocks in the stairwells. No time had passed.
He withdrew back into the wormhole. Surely the xenocs hadn’t expected to crawl along the entire length? In any case, the other end would be 13,000 years ago. Marcus retrieved the xenoc activation code from his neural nanonics, and datavised it.
The lines of light turned blue.
He quickly datavised the deactivation code, and the lines reverted to yellow. This time when he emerged out into the portal chamber there was no signal at all.
“That was ten hours ago,” Marcus told his crew. “I climbed out and walked back to the ship. I passed you on the way, Karl.”
“Holy shit,” Roman muttered. “A time machine.”
“How long was the wormhole active for?” Katherine asked.
“A couple of seconds, that’s all.”
“Ten hours in two seconds.” She paused, loading sums into her neural nanonics. “That’s a year in 30 minutes. Actually, that’s not so fast. Not if they were intending to travel a couple of thousand years into the future.”
“You’re complaining about it?” Roman asked.
“Maybe it speeds up the further you go through it,” Schutz suggested. “Or more likely we need the correct access codes to vary its speed.”
“Whatever,” Marcus said. He datavised the flight computer and blew the tether bolts which were holding Lady Mac to the wreckage. “I want flight-readiness status, people, please.”
“What about Jorge and the others?” Karl asked.
“They only come back on board under our terms,” Marcus said. “No weapons, and they go straight into zero-tau. We can hand them over to Tranquillity’s serjeants as soon as we get home.” Purple course vectors were rising into his mind. He fired the maneuvering thrusters, easing Lady Mac clear of the xenoc shell.
Jorge saw the sparkle of bright dust as the explosive bolts fired. He scanned his sensor collar around until he found the tethers, narrow gray serpents flexing against the speckled backdrop of drab orange particles. It didn’t bother him unduly. Then the small thrusters ringing the starship’s equator fired, pouring out translucent amber plumes of gas.
“Katherine, what do you think you’re doing?” he datavised.
“Following my orders,” Marcus replied. “She’s helping to prep the ship for a jump. Is that a problem for you?”
Jorge watched the starship receding, an absurdly stately movement for an artifact that big. His respirator tube seemed to have stopped supplying fresh oxygen, paralyzing every muscle. “Calvert. How?” he managed to datavise.
“I might tell you some time. Right now, there are a lot of conditions you have to agree to before I allow you back on board.”
Pure fury at being so completely outmaneuvered by Calvert made him reach automatically for his weapon. “You will come back now,” he datavised.
“You’re not in any position to dictate terms.”
Lady Macbeth was a good 200 meters away. Jorge lined the stubby barrel up on the rear of the starship. A green targeting grid flipped up over the image, and he zeroed on the nozzle of a fusion drive tube. He datavised the X-ray laser to fire. Pale white vapor spewed out of the nozzle.
