by Nancy Kress
We know another way in. We can destroy your home system while you’re off protecting your perimeter.
Another screech, loud and piercing. Kaufman determined not to look up, but something so extraordinary was happening that he was forced to. All the insects in the room were diving straight into the mass of the heaving object in the corner. It, in turn, started humming at such a high frequency that Kaufman’s ears went into excruciating pain and he dropped the stylus. Then everything disappeared.
* * *
“Lyle. Wake up. Lyle!”
Marbet. Kaufman tried to open his eyes, failed.
“Come on, Lyle. You’re the only one that can fly this thing!”
Fly? The word was so unexpected, so incongruous that Kaufman thought he was dreaming. Then he realized he wasn’t and with a Herculean effort opened his eyes. Marbet, still naked but without her helmet, leaned over him. And he lay …
Not possible.
“Get up, Lyle!” she said, and slowly he got up.
Around him were the cramped bulkheads, deck, instrumentation, seats, terminal—everything!—of a human military flyer, series XXPell3. A simulation? Holo or stage set? No. It was real.
Marbet was tugging him toward the pilot seat. On the viewscreen, a curved wall was sliding upward and disappearing, leaving stars. A shuttle bay.
“Ladybug, ladybug,” Capelo said from the seat where he was strapped in, several patches on his naked neck and chest. The patches were standard military-issue blue. Marbet had found the fighter flyer’s medkit.
“Where are we?” Kaufman asked. “What—”
“They had this flyer stored here,” Marbet said, still shoving him toward the pilot seat. “God knows where they got it. They want us to go through to Artemis and tell the humans there that the Faller artifact is being moved to the Faller home world. But you just wouldn’t come to, Lyle. I think they misjudged whatever they did to us, hit you too much harder than Tom and me because you’re bigger or carry more authority or something. Anyway, Tom and I can’t fly this thing and you’ve got to!”
“Strap in, Marbet,” Kaufman ordered. His hands felt for the terminal. It wasn’t coded for him, but he knew the overrides, and how to reconfigure them. It had been ten years since he’d flown an XXPell3, but this craft was at least ten years old, too. The Fallers must have captured it somehow, somewhere. Kaufman didn’t want to think about what might have happened to the craft’s three-man crew.
His displays came on-line. They registered two space tunnels and absolutely nothing else. Q space must have been swept to destroy every stray rock in it large enough to clog up a display screen.
Kaufman pulled out of the bay, and now the display registered two items: the XXPell3 and the Faller station. No, three. As he watched, another craft left the station, moving toward Space Tunnel #301. The Fallers were taking their artifact home.
“They believed us,” he said aloud. “The sons-of-bitches believed us.”
“And let us go,” Capelo said, “but why did they bother? The second we go back through Tunnel Number Two-one-eight to Artemis, our own military is going to vaporize us.”
“No,” Kaufman said. “Not in this craft. They’ll at least listen for a second, and we can ID.” He hoped he was right. But at least it was a chance.
“Oh, good,” Capelo said. “They’ll wait to hear what we told the Fallers before they kill us. Pierce is just going to love that we spoiled his great military coup.”
Marbet said, “Shut up, Tom.”
“Now she’s enlisted, too. General Grant. Where do I sign up?”
“Shut up, Tom! Let Lyle fly!”
Lyle flew, heading for Space Tunnel #218. But something didn’t make sense. The Fallers wanted him and Marbet and Capelo to tell their fellow humans that the Faller artifact was back in the Faller home system, protecting it. That’s what they’d told Marbet. But why did they want that message delivered? Why not just let Pierce’s troops bring the human artifact through, try to fry the Faller System, and find it impossible? If there was going to be a stalemate … blessed stalemate. The three of them had at least brought that much about. The two artifacts would not both be set off at prime thirteen in the same system. Spacetime would not tear, heal itself by a universe-wide flop transition, and so destroy spacetime as life now knew it. But if there was going to be a stalemate, why send Kaufman and Capelo and Marbet to announce it in advance?
So that no more humans would enter Q space. The Fallers were that xenophobic about their front yard.
A third blip appeared on the display screen.
Kaufman stared. No, it was what he’d thought. He’d really seen it, hadn’t misjudged it, couldn’t will it away. A third blip had entered Q space, coming through Tunnel #218 from Artemis. A fourth blip, a fifth, a sixth. Pierce’s forces were here.
And the Faller craft carrying their artifact home was too far from Tunnel #301 to reach it in time. Both artifacts were now in Q space, one of them controlled by a madman.
Kaufman was too late. Everything was over.
TWENTY-NINE
Q SPACE
What is it?” Marbet said. She’d been watching Kaufman, and her Sensitive eyes had seen. Kaufman didn’t try to hide the truth.
“The navy is here.”
“With the artifact?” Capelo said quickly.
On Kaufman’s display, the Faller space station fired. The SADN ship continued on at top speed, unaffected.
“With the artifact. Set at prime two,” Kaufman answered.
“Can they reach the tunnel to the Faller home world before Pierce’s fleet—”
“No,” Kaufman said. “Prepare for acceleration and evasive maneuvers, if necessary.”
He flew the ancient craft toward the tunnel from which the navy ships had just emerged. No ID registered on his display for the ships; the small flyer’s records were too old to contain these navy models. Kaufman opened the comlink on all frequencies.
“Solar Alliance Defense Navy ship, this is Colonel Lyle Kaufman in a retired XXPell3. Request permission to fly alongside you.”
In the transmission lag Capelo said, “God, yes. If they set off both artifacts at prime thirteen there should be a safety zone around the … what am I saying? If spacetime goes into flop transition … Lyle, try to get permission to go through the tunnel! Fast! We still don’t know if the flop transition travels only at c or can go through the tunnels itself!”
“Who the hell are you?” came over the comlink. “Q space is restricted, Colonel!”
“I know. It’s a long story. Request permission to use Space Tunnel Number Two-one-eight. I’ll tell the story to Artemis System—it looks like you men don’t need me in the way.”
Another lag. Kaufman increased acceleration as much as he dared. Capelo’s ribs were only bound with Kaufman’s inept first aid. Finally the answer came:
“Get the fuck through the tunnel, Colonel. Pass code. ‘San Juan Hill.’ We’ll give you five minutes!”
Kaufman didn’t ask ‘five minutes until what.’ He knew. The Faller station raced toward Space Tunnel #301, to take the Faller artifact through and protect the home system. It wasn’t going to make it. The station couldn’t destroy the navy warship, nor the warship destroy the station, not if both were set at prime two. But surely the Faller station would switch to prime eleven, thereby protecting the entire Q System from a prime thirteen attack. Surely it would …
He accelerated at five-gees toward Tunnel #218.
Surely the Fallers would switch to prime eleven …
Something happened on his displays. Both the warship and the Faller station exploded.
“They did it!” Kaufman screamed, despite the pain in his lungs, despite the uselessness of the cry. They had done it, must have. No zone of safety at prime thirteen, apparently. Syree Johnson’s artifact had exploded when it fried the entire World System except World, and she’d thought it had been from taking too great a mass through the tunnel but it hadn’t been—
Pier
ce and the Fallers did it. Two artifacts set off, prime thirteen, same system …
The wave had a lag effect, or this flyer would already be gone—
They did it, the Goddamn fucking assholes—
Kaufman accelerated madly toward the tunnel. How great a lag effect? He was losing consciousness, couldn’t do that, the navy on the other side of the tunnel would fry him if he couldn’t account for himself … stay conscious … ‘San Juan Hill’ … they did it …
The flyer dove through the tunnel. Three seconds later, the wave effect of an artifact set at prime thirteen reached Space Tunnel #218. And the inevitable happened.
* * *
Darkness.
“San … Juan…”
Crushing weight.
“Hill…”
Darkness again, lifting slowly.
“San…”
Kaufman didn’t know how long he’d been gasping the words, which were meaningless to his struggling mind. Blackness swept over him, receded, returned. The comlink was babbling … something … meaningless …
He was on the Artemis System side of the tunnel. Still alive.
“Cut … acceleration…”
The crushing weight abruptly ceased. The flyer hurled on.
“Slow, damn it!” the comlink ordered. With every ounce of strength he had left, Kaufman gave the command to the flyer computer.
Marbet. Tom.
He turned in his seat. They both slumped in theirs. Kaufman’s heart and lungs worked too hard to go to them. His brain seemed to bulge larger than his skull. He had only his voice, and he forced himself to use it.
“Our warship … gone … also Faller station … both artifacts … thirteen…”
“How do you know that? Colonel, what happened over there?”
“Don’t go … through.…”
But they would. It was inevitable. And on his displays, Kaufman saw the blips detach from the Artemis fleet and race toward Tunnel #218.
“Don’t … not … yet…”
“Unknown flyer, deactivate all weapons and wait for boarding,” said the comlink. Back to correct navy procedure. Fools.
But they were still alive. So the wave traveled at c, not through the tunnels. The flop transition would spread out from Q System at c, tearing spacetime and then mending it through radical reconfiguration, and it would be hundreds of years until the Solar System was destroyed.
Cold comfort.
“Ready to … accept boarding,” Kaufman said, and tried to get out of his chair to go to Marbet. The effort was too great. He fell back down, and so was facing the displays when it happened.
He saw it happen, live.
It couldn’t happen, but he saw it.
Three SADN ships flew toward Space Tunnel #218. Toward it, and into it. Not through it, into it. Two ships, a half minute apart, hit an invisible solid wall within the floating doughnut, and exploded. The third ship swerved just in time and bypassed the tunnel.
Which was somehow not a tunnel.
Kaufman threw himself out of his seat. Reserve energy he didn’t know he had galvanized him. He grabbed Capelo and shook him, heedless of the physicist’s injuries. Capelo’s thin body flopped back and forth. But he was breathing. Kaufman dropped him and reached for a taser.
Alarms shrieked over the comlink. Fleet alarms. Attack alarms.
But there was no attack, except by Kaufman. He tasered Capelo and the physicist shrieked awake. “What … oooooooeeeee…” It was a cry of pure pain.
Kaufman ignored it. “Tom, listen … listen, Goddamn it! The tunnels are closing!”
“What—”
“Space tunnel to Q System is closed! It’s a solid wall. Both sides set off the artifacts in Q System at prime thirteen and the tunnel closed. I need to know if they’re all closed, or just the ones to Q System!”
Capelo stared at him, no longer moaning. Then he said, “How the fuck should I know?”
Kaufman dropped him and jumped back into his seat. No help from theory. Only action left. He restarted the XXPell3 and accelerated in the opposite direction, toward Space Tunnel #212. The next tunnel on the route to Sol.
No one fired, no one ordered him to stop. Kaufman wasn’t surprised. The fleet had just lost two ships in an accident that couldn’t have happened. No one with authority was thinking of Kaufman. They would, in a few minutes, but by that time he’d be through Tunnel #212 and inside the star system it led to, Han System.
If it let him through.
He started to decelerate halfway, which wasn’t very far; the tunnels orbited close together. Approaching #212, he said on the comlink to the tunnel ships, “XXPell3, designated test flyer for Tunnel Number Two-one-two into Han System, coming through. Code San Juan Hill. Wish me luck, boys!”
Silence: part lag, part confusion. Then a young, scared voice: “I don’t have … proceed, flyer, and good luck!”
Seconds later: “That’s not … “but it was already too late. Kaufman’s communication had traveled faster than the one from the fleet at the fortified entrance to Q space. Kaufman had reached the floating gray doughnut made of nothing.
Slowly, to minimize impact, he flew into the tunnel.
There was no impact. He was through.
Behind him, Tom Capelo said, “Jesus Newton God.”
“what?”
Capelo didn’t answer. The tunnel ships on the Han System side said, “Identify self, flyer.”
“Flyer XXPell3, Colonel Lyle Kaufman. Emergency information from Artemis System, priority one, Special Compartmented Information.”
“Dock at will, Colonel. But your ship—”
Capelo said, “Go through the next tunnel, Lyle! Now! They’re all going to close, and I don’t know how long we’ve got! Do you hear me—they’re all going to close!”
“What was that, Colonel?” said the other ship, sharply.
“Nothing,” Kaufman said. There came into his mind, unbidden, a map of the space tunnels between him and Sol. Curiously, the image was not the conventionally formal military rendering but instead the same kind of rough sketch he’d made on Marbet’s handheld. Kaufman could see this new sketch, in all its crudeness, as dearly as if it floated in the air in front of him:
Four more tunnels to the Solar System, and home. Kaufman said to the comlink, “Change of orders, sealed until this locus, priority one, Special Compartmented Information. Request permission to proceed through Tunnel Number One-one-seven into Gemini System.”
“I haven’t got any authorization to—”
“Then find someone who does! I said I have Special Compartmented Information, proceeding through Tunnel Number One-one-seven!” Kaufman said loudly, firmly, impatiently. The tunnel orbited only twenty seconds away.
“I don’t have any … can you … halt!”
Too late. Kaufman was through. He emerged into Gemini System. Three more tunnels to go.
“Tom, they’ll come after us,” Kaufman said quickly. “If you can’t talk fast to them, they’ll shoot us down.”
“Evade them, or something! I don’t know how rapidly the—Goddamn it how did I ever miss that variable…”
Kaufman instructed the computer to proceed to Tunnel #64, leading from Gemini to Isis System, and to take all possible evasive action, keep all comlinks open. Then he turned in his seat. Capelo sat covered in blue pain patches, which was how he was working on the handheld. God, so many patches, the chemicals he was absorbing to keep himself pumped … the physicist coded furiously on the handheld. Kaufman glanced at Marbet and saw she still breathed. Gladness blew wildly through him.
Why? They were all going to be shot down anyway.
“XXPell3, halt instantly or I will commence firing.”
“This is Dr. Thomas Capelo!” Tom screamed. “Don’t fire! Listen to me, the tunnels are closing, they’re closing! I know why! Don’t shoot or I can’t tell you!”
“XXPell3, halt instantly or I will commence firing. This is your last warning.”
The Gemini
-Isis Tunnel was too far away to reach before a proton beam got them.
Kaufman’s chest clutched. He could fire on the tunnel ships, on both of them, there were only two. Taking evasive action he’d probably get them both—
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t shoot down two SADN ships on active duty, not to save his life and Marbet’s, not even to let Capelo tell the galaxy what was happening to it. They’d know soon enough anyway.
“Hairing in compliance,” he said, and ignored Capelo’s shout behind him.
A ship blew up on his viewscreen, filling it with light.
The data display showed it had been a civilian cargo ship, cleared to go through a different one of Gemini System’s three tunnels. The ship had tried to sail through at one-gee acceleration and had hit solid matter. Another tunnel had closed.
“The tunnels are closing,” Kaufman said, restarting his ship, “just as Dr. Capelo said! Proceeding through Tunnel Number Sixty-four to Isis System, Priority One, Special Compartmented Information—”
No one even replied. Probably they were all stunned by what had just happened to the cargo ship. Shattered into smithereens by what should have been empty space. How many hands had been aboard?
Kaufman didn’t slow down. Twenty-two seconds, eighteen, twelve … they were through.
“Flyer XXPell3, identify self,” said a puzzled female voice on the Isis side of the tunnel. “No clearances on record.”
Capelo said, “You’ve got more time here. I think. The equations … how could I have missed it, my God.…”
Kaufman’s adrenaline rush was dissipating. Unlike Capelo, he wasn’t covered with blue patches. Capelo was far too jacked for the patches to be simple painkillers; probably they were systemic accelerators, peen or gull.
Two more tunnels between him and Sol.
“This is Flyer XXPell3, no current clearances. Request permission to proceed through Space Tunnel Number Thirty-two into Herndon System.”
“Why is there no record of you, Flyer XXPell3? I’m showing your craft as obsolete and retired military.”
“That is correct. I am—” Kaufman said. He cut the link momentarily and said to Capelo, “How much time? When do the rest of the tunnels close? Do you know what the fuck you’re doing?”
