by Nancy Kress
“No! I’ve only had ten minutes here with a major breakthrough in physics!”
Kaufman reopened the comlink. “—get the rest of that. Repeat transmission, XXPell3.”
“Repeating transmission,” Kaufman said wearily. For the first time in what seemed hours—it was actually less than twenty minutes total—he realized that he, Capelo, and Marbet were all still naked. “I said I am on a special military mission, Priority One, Special Compartmented Information.”
“Pass code for SCI missions?”
Kaufman didn’t know the code, of course. This was the end of their mad dash to Sol. The only thing left was truth.
“Listen, Gemini System. I have Dr. Thomas Capelo, the missing physicist sought by Admiral Pierce, aboard my craft. He has just discovered that the space tunnels are closing, one by one, and the scientific basis for that. It is vital that we convey this information with all possible speed to Admiral Pierce on Mars. He doesn’t yet know this phenomenon is happening, so we have no SCI pass code. But the entire galaxy is at stake.”
“Dr. Thomas Capelo?” the voice said incredulously. “That’s quite a story, XXPell3. Deactivate weapons and prepare for boarding.”
“I tell you there’s no time for that,” Kaufman said. “The space tunnels are closing.”
On his display, he saw a ship sail peacefully through the tunnel. It didn’t explode.
“XXPell3, deactivate weapons and prepare for immediate boarding.”
“In compliance,” Kaufman said. “Deactivating weapons and preparing for boarding. This is Colonel Lyle Kaufman, USDC, retired. Will you at least do one other thing? Will you send—”
“Lyle?” came another female voice. “Lyle Kaufman? This is Marjorie Barella.”
Kaufman dosed his eyes. He had served with her in combat, fifteen years ago. By pure chance then, by pure chance now. “Marjorie? It is Lyle Kaufman. Run a voice-scan match … got it?”
“Yes.”
“Listen, Colonel Barella…”
“General Barella.”
Better yet. “General, this is an unprecedented situation. I have Dr. Thomas Capelo aboard. We have just returned from Artemis System.” He didn’t mention Q System; she wasn’t SADC and so Wouldn’t even know about it, rank of general or no. “This is a long story, but the major outcome is that the space tunnels are closing, one by one, at an undetermined varying rate. I know how fantastic that sounds. All I’m asking is that you send a flyer through to Gemini System to verify that the space tunnels are becoming nonoperative. Meanwhile, I will deactivate weapons and prepare for boarding, if you wish, although I conceive my primary mission to be to convey this intelligence to Sol.”
Marjorie Barella said, “You must deactivate and prepare for immediate boarding, Lyle. But you were … I’ll dispatch a recon flyer.”
“Thank you, Marjorie.” By pure chance then, by pure chance now. Unfair.
But he’d always known that was true of the universe.
He cut the outgoing comlink and said to Capelo, “How long? And what’s going on?”
“I don’t know how long. All I have is the data for three closed tunnels, for Chrissake, it’s too small a sample … I only know why it’s happening.”
Only. Kaufman was too weary to comment on Capelo’s extraordinary word choice. Hauling himself out of his chair, he fumbled for an adrenaline patch for Marbet, still unconscious in her seat.
Capelo, higher than the moon, babbled on. “I don’t know how we missed it … once you know where to look … do you remember all those people who said no, two prime thirteens won’t tear all of spacetime, the original makers would have built in safeguards to make sure that didn’t happen … Do you remember all those hopeful, proofless, optimistic slobs? They were right! Or half right, anyway, spacetime does tear, it does mend itself with a radical flop-transition to convert the energy, I wasn’t wrong on that … but the flop-transition only proceeds so far. It travels through the tunnels and doses them instead, and that absorbs the transition energy, God the amount of energy generated and absorbed … and it has the double effect of preserving spacetime configuration and removing such dangerous toys as the artifacts from those who were patently misusing them! Oh, it’s beautiful, the math is beautiful, how did I miss this before, this equation that—”
Kaufman stopped listening. He put a patch on Marbet’s neck. Instantly she stirred and clutched her chest. “Ooohh…”
“Don’t move, Marbet. Broken ribs, I think. Tom, too, but … just don’t move. Help is coming.”
“Where are we?” In pain, she was nonetheless fully alert.
“Isis System, We’re going to be boarded by tunnel administration in a few minutes. Don’t move or—”
“Lyle!” Marjorie Barella’s voice on the comlink. “Lyle, you were right! My God!”
“Open outgoing frequency!” Kaufman snapped at the computer. “Marjorie, what—”
“The recon flyer found Gemini fleet in a panic. The Gemini-Han Tunnel is a solid wall. How—never mind. Proceed to Sol and tell the SADC. No point in sending clearances, you can go as fast as a flyer through the tunnels. If—” She didn’t finish the thought. “The pass code for SCI is beaming aboard to you now. It’ll get you through any tunnel. Go!”
“Going now,” Kaufman said. He was already back in the pilot seat, starting the ship, reactivating the weapons. The encrypted SCI pass code arrived in his secure data bank and he accelerated, dashing toward Space Tunnel #32 while there was still time, if there was still time.
After #32, only Space Tunnel #1 stood between him and Sol.
THIRTY
THARSIS, MARS
Amanda Capelo and Konstantin Ouranis sat watching the newscast in the Blumbergs’ living room. Uncle Martin sat at his terminal in his study, which was really just a corner of his bedroom, preparing his lectures for the university. The fourth quarter started tomorrow. Aunt Kristen had come home from work early and now rattled around the tiny kitchen, preparing dinner. Uncle Martin was actually the better cook, but it was Aunt Kristen’s turn tonight. The newscast was turned up loud so she could hear it from the kitchen.
“Look!” Konstantin said suddenly. “My father!”
Amanda hadn’t been paying attention to the news. She’d been stealing looks at Konstantin’s profile, so beautiful, and worrying about tomorrow.
The problem was Uncle Martin. No, the real problem was Amanda’s lie.
She should never have let Konstantin think she was almost seventeen. It made him … expect things. He’d been at the Blumbergs’ for two weeks now, and it seemed to Amanda that he expected more things all the time. And tomorrow the university started up again and Uncle Martin would be gone all day, teaching, and of course Aunt Kristen would be at her four-day-a-week job at the farm outside Tharsis, where they grew intensive-yield genemod food crops under low domes built like greenhouses. Until now, both her aunt and uncle hadn’t been out of the apartment at the same time, unless Amanda and Konstantin had gone with them. Mostly this was because they wanted someone to be here if there was a comlink about Amanda’s father. However, Amanda suspected that it was also because they didn’t want to leave her alone with Konstantin.
And now she didn’t want that, either.
But he was so sweet! He never argued with her, never pressured her, never did any of the things that Amanda and Yaeko and Juliana and Thekla had told each other boys did when they were trying to talk you into things. Konstantin wasn’t like that. He was always kind, always gentle, always concerned about her. She had told him endless stories about her father, and he’d listened attentively and held her if she cried and told her that Dr. Capelo was sure to come home. Konstantin was never pushy. And yet … and yet …
Somehow each day Amanda found herself going a little farther with him. First light kisses, then deeper kisses, then French kissing, then he had lightly stroked her sides only somehow his hands got closer to her breasts …
A year ago she hadn’t even had breasts.
&nbs
p; Over and over she practiced in her mind telling him the truth. “Konstantin, I’m only fourteen.” But each time she tried to say it aloud, she somehow couldn’t. First, she’d have to admit she lied. Second, he might not like her anymore. Third … third was hard to admit even to herself. But she did. Facts, her father always said. And this was a fact.
She sort of didn’t want him to stop.
But she sort of did! And tomorrow, when Uncle Martin and Aunt Kristen weren’t home …
“Ah-man-dah? You to hear me? That is my father!”
“Really?” She looked at the screen. Stavros Ouranis surprised her; He was a short, big-bellied man with bristly, funny-looking black hair. Definitely not where Konstantin and Demetria got their beauty. Mr. Ouranis said something in Greek, and an English translator supplied, “I wish Admiral Pierce all possible success in stopping the alien threat at Space Tunnel number one. My own people stand ready to help him any way he wishes.”
“Your father really is important,” Amanda said, because she had to say something. Aunt Kristen had come out from the kitchen and stood drying her hands on a dish towel, expressionlessly watching the newscast.
“Very very important,” Konstantin said, but it didn’t sound like bragging, just like facts. “Often he to tell Admiral Pierce things and Admiral Pierce to listen at my father and to do things.”
“Oh,” Amanda said.
Konstantin twisted in his chair. “After dinner, I and Amanda to walk, Mrs. Blumberg? Is okay?”
“If Amanda wants to,” Aunt Kristen said neutrally and vanished into the kitchen.
“You to want to walk by me, Ah-man-dah?”
“Yes. But now I have to help Aunt Kristen in the kitchen.”
“Splendid,” Konstantin said, and turned back to the news.
She was a little irritated. Konstantin never offered to help around the apartment, as Amanda had been taught a guest should do. On the other hand, he always asked Aunt Kristen’s permission to take Amanda anywhere in Tharsis, even to the ice cream shop in the next building, just as if Amanda was Sudie’s age. He was selfish, and super-polite, and amazingly generous, and sexist, and respectful, and scary, and wonderful. He confused her all the time:
After dinner he said, “We go to walk, Ah-man-dah?” and smiled at her, and suddenly she wanted to walk with him more than anything in the entire world. Slow color mounted in her face. Aunt Kristen watched her bleakly.
They strolled to the tiny park at the edge of the Tharsis dome. The trees and flowers, genemod for Martian light, made a canopy above them. But the park was crowded tonight, with adults on all the benches and children in the red-sand sandbox and the paths between flower beds dogged with walkers. Amanda saw several soldiers with the green bars on their caps, The dust outside the dome was at a very low level and the sky was remarkably clear, glittering with stars. People had come out to enjoy the evening.
“Ah-man-dah,” Konstantin said, “we to walk outside, okay?”
“Outside?”
“Yes, splendid, why not.”
“But … we don’t have suits! Or passes!”
He laughed and winked at her. Taking her hand, he led her quickly out of the park and through the crowded streets.
“Konstantin, where are we going?”
“You to know soon! Surprise!”
She followed him half willingly, half resentfully. He never let her make any decisions! But the pressure of his warm fingers on hers was delicious, and anyway going outside would really be interesting. If they didn’t go far, of course.
He stopped in front of a building with no sign, at the edge of the dome. It was built on one side like a ziggurat, with stepped floors to accommodate the curve of the dome; the other side was straight. Konstantin led her up the one step to the raised security platform. He fitted himself in front of the retinal scanner. It said something in Greek. Konstantin answered at length, and then moved away.
“Now you, Ah-man-dah.”
“But where are we? What is this building?”
“Ouranis Enterprises. Now you. I to tell it to let you go in. Come.”
She stepped up to the scanner, impressed by the power he had over his father’s business. The scanner said something in Greek. Again Konstantin answered, and the door swung open.
Inside, a system spoke to Konstantin in Greek. He answered and a moment later a trolley ‘bot brought out two s-suits and helmets. Konstantin grinned at her, and she laughed, suddenly infected with the adventure.
They pulled on the suits. Before he put on his, he pulled a data cube from the pocket of his tunic. Lovingly Konstantin checked her seals and controls and then his own. “See, here is private channel to talk. You and me.”
“Okay,” Amanda said. “What’s that thing?” He had picked up a large, heavy-looking box by its metal handle and had attached its cables to the neck of his helmet.
“Is nothing.”
“No, really, Konstantin, what is it?”
He scowled. “My father to say I must to carry outside. Very powerful transmitter. Encrypted. Will receive anything. He to want to reach me always. And to send at me messages for business.”
“Well, that’s reasonable,” Amanda said, and he stopped scowling. She felt suddenly older. He had been ashamed to have to carry the transmitter because he thought it was babyish, and she’d reassured him! She, Amanda! She smiled at him so radiantly that just before he put on her helmet, he kissed her lightly on the mouth.
Konstantin slipped the data cube into the transmitter. They walked through the entire building, seeing no one. Well, it was evening; probably the workers had gone home. The building had its own gate out of the dome. Konstantin gave the codes, and the airlock opened.
Outside, it was beautiful. This was the opposite side of the dome from the walkways to the farm, the train gateway, and the gate where the shuttle picked up and dropped passengers for the spaceport. Amanda saw a few other people walking outside, but no one very dose to them.
Konstantin led her, hand-in-hand, away from the dome. The ground was all drawn over with vehicle tracks and footprints. Close to the dome there were few rocks because they had all been picked up by ‘bots or tourists. But a hundred meters out, the natural rocks of Mars reappeared, rocks of every size, red and black and brown and yellow. The rocks were mostly rounded and pitted. Dust lay over them all, and to Amanda even the dust looked beautiful.
“Konstantin,” she said experimentally over the private channel, “this was all a big volcano once.”
“Yes? Splendid!”
“It made the Tharsis bulge. That’s why we have such a great view. My father told me.”
As always when her father was mentioned, Konstantin turned toward her with respectful concern in his dark eyes. He squeezed her hand. “He to come back soon, Ah-man-dah. I sure.”
“Yes,” she said, but she wasn’t sure she believed it anymore. For a moment the wonderful alien landscape dimmed.
“Soon,” Konstantin said. “Look! Up, up!”
A meteor streaked across the black sky. Amanda said, “Quick! Make a wish! Before it hits … oh, too late.”
“I to wish, yes,” Konstantin said, and squeezed her hand.
They kept walking. When the dome began sinking below the horizon, Amanda said firmly, “This is far enough, Konstantin.”
Obediently he stopped. He found a big rock and sat down on it, pulling her beside him. The rock felt cold under her bottom; they couldn’t stay here very long. But Konstantin put his arm around her and they nestled as close as possible with their helmets.
Amanda giggled. It was so silly! She’d been worried about being alone with Konstantin, and here they were as alone as it was possible to be, and it was with s-suits, intense cold, and bulky helmets that prevented him from so much as kissing her. Of course there was still tomorrow to worry about, but right now she was as protected as those vestal virgins they’d learned about in history class.
“Ah-man-dah,” Konstantin said, “I to wish to tell at y
ou my to wish.”
It took her a minute to sort this out. “You want to tell me what wish you made on that meteor.”
“Yes. Before now, two weeks since, I to tell you I love you. Remember?”
“I remember,” Amanda said. She pulled a little away from him.
“Okay. Now I say … damn!”
She looked at him in astonishment. But the damn hadn’t been for her. Konstantin frowned at the transmitter he’d set, down on the rocky ground at their feet. As she watched, his frown changed. Konstantin’s black eyes widened, and as he turned to face her, wonder and joy spread across his face.
“Ah-man-dah, a comlink by you! Program I to write have it!”
“What … I don’t understand…” Was Aunt Kristen summoning Amanda back? Was she angry?
“I to write program! To get message addresses by you or by anybody in address parameters! Even encrypted because transmitter have powerful unencryption program, why is big! Comlink at you!”
“But—”
He took her by the shoulders and almost shook her with his intensity. “Ah-man-dah! Is comlink at Blumberg home system! Is from your father!”
THIRTY-ONE
SPACE TUNNEL #1
Capelo was crashing from the systemic-accelerator spike he’d given himself.
Kaufman couldn’t spare much attention for the physicist. He concentrated on his displays, on pushing the XXPell3 as much as he dared without further damaging her three passengers, on planning ahead. Armed with Marjorie Barella’s precious SCI code, Kaufman could get through the final tunnel to Sol. Probably. But then what? Was he really going to tell Admiral Pierce’s military forces on the other side of Space Tunnel #1 that the tunnel was going to close? If he did, he would have to tell the entire story, including that Admiral Pierce had hidden Tom Capelo and the Protector Artifact—which had supposedly been protecting the Solar System—on the Murasaki, in World System. And that Pierce had then taken the Protector Artifact to Q System and set off the closing of the tunnels by risking the fabric of spacetime itself.
