Probability Space

by Nancy Kress

  Who was really Konstantin.

  Who was really her, telling an admiral what to do.

  “Say nothing, Ah-man-dah,” Konstantin whispered fiercely. The rover was almost upon them. “Message of your father is by transmitter since. And they will to trace message anyway, but not too soon enough, I think. Maybe. Flyers of my father will to go fast.”

  “But—”

  “Say nothing at peoples by this rover!” Konstantin said, and smiled at the suited figures rushing toward him, his hand raised in greeting.

  * * *

  Soldiers. Again. This time they didn’t take her to Lowell City. They brought her and Konstantin back to Aunt Kristen’s house, and crowded the four of them—Amanda, Konstantin, Uncle Martin, Aunt Kristen—into the storage closet. The only room in the apartment without terminal connections. The soldiers were very polite. Was that because of Konstantin? He had told them his name. But they’d been polite to Amanda before, too. It was creepy.

  She said to Uncle Martin, wedged in beside her, “Did you get Marbet’s message?”

  He put a finger to his lips: Don’t say anything. Surveillance? In a closet? Still, she nodded.

  Aunt Kristen was pushing boxes on top of each other, shoving things onto already overloaded shelves. “If we didn’t own so much damn junk … Martin, I told you last year we should dump these old books … There. Now I think at least there’s room for everybody to sit down.”

  There was, just barely. Amanda was jammed dose to Konstantin. She didn’t mind.

  He had really done it. Sent the message to his father’s flyers. For her.

  Aunt Kristen was bent over. Amanda couldn’t see what her aunt was doing until Aunt Kristen unobtrusively passed her a tiny piece of paper, torn from one of the old books. On it Aunt Kristen had written WE GOT THE MESSAGE AND SENT IT ON TO NEWS STATION.

  Amanda nodded and passed the bit of paper to Konstantin. He frowned at it, and she remembered that he couldn’t read English. Pretending to stroke Amanda’s hair, Aunt Kristen plucked the message from Konstantin and, the next moment, ate it.

  Amanda giggled.

  Aunt Kristen looked at her severely, but not more severely than Amanda reprimanded herself. What was she thinking … giggling! When they were imprisoned here and might die and Daddy might be killed, too …

  But Aunt Kristen had gotten the story to the news people. Whatever the story was. Whatever Marbet had said. So that might protect them. And Konstantin had told his father’s flyers to keep Admiral Pierce on the other side of the space tunnel …

  How could a space tunnel close? Amanda had no idea. But her father said they were. Oh, close fast, close with the horrible Admiral Pierce on the other side!

  “What time is it?” she asked aloud. Surely that sounded innocent enough. The soldiers had taken all their watches, comlinks, jewelry.

  “At ten-thirty, I think,” Konstantin said. He shot Amanda a glance.

  Ten-thirty. What time had Konstantin sent the message? Amanda didn’t know. Four hours and ten minutes, he’d said, for the message to reach Mars. She remembered from school that c was three hundred thousand kilometers per second. She tried to do the math to see how far away her father was, but failed. It was too hard to concentrate.

  How long were they going to be kept in this stupid closet?

  The night wore on. Uncle Martin was talking, reciting some old poem, probably from his English classes. Amanda wasn’t listening. Drowsiness kept sneaking up on her, although how could anybody sleep at a time like this? She was a cretin! But she was so tired …

  “‘Here, where the world is quiet;

  Here where all trouble seems

  Dead winds’ and spent waves’ riot

  In doubtful dream of dreams,’”

  Uncle Martin’s voice said, and then, later, “‘And everything but sleep.’”

  Only once did Amanda wake completely. She lay against Konstantin, her head and shoulders almost collapsed in his lap. The closet light had burned out, or been put out. She felt his hand caress her breast. Instantly Amanda was wide awake.

  Without thinking, she bolted upright. There was no room to get away. But she could feel his ear, right there beside her head, and she leaned as dose to it as she could get, feeling the blood rush into her face as she whispered desperately.

  “Konstantin, no, please … I’m only fourteen!”

  And Amanda Capelo burst into tears.

  THIRTY-THREE

  SPACE TUNNEL #1

  For hours, Kaufman lay strapped naked on the medical table in the bare room. Expecting to be killed at any moment, he minded that less than he minded his own thoughts. He had botched it. Regret gnawed at him like rats.

  The Solar System would never know that Admiral Pierce had recklessly risked the very fabric of spacetime in his megalomaniac grab for power. Undoubtedly a story would be concocted to blame the closing of the space, tunnels on the Fallers. The war would be over. Lyle Kaufman and Marbet Grant and Thomas Capelo, the three who knew the truth, would quietly disappear. Most of the people who knew Tom and Marbet and Kaufman even still existed would be closed off on the other side of Space Tunnel #1, light-years distant. The few who knew on this side of the tunnel would be silenced with promotions or death.

  Of course, Tom’s message would reach Carol and Sudie and Amanda (if Amanda was still alive). What would Pierce do about that? Probably threaten Carol into silence. Carol had Sudie to protect; it wouldn’t be hard to keep her quiet.

  Kaufman should have prepared a full statement, beamed it out the second he passed through Space Tunnel #1, notified the entire Solar System of what Pierce had done. Well, he had been too busy staying alive to think of that.

  No excuse. If he had succeeded in telling the media what had happened, Pierce would have had him killed. But that was going to happen anyway, to all three of them. Unless Pierce decided to keep Capelo alive in secret, as Stefanak had done, Capelo’s brain held hostage to his family’s welfare.

  Kaufman’s fault. He had not planned, had not seen far enough ahead. Failure of vision was a sin the universe did not forgive. As a result, Admiral Nikolai Pierce was going to be a hero of sorts, Pyrrhic victor in the war with the Fallers, that diabolical enemy who had closed the stars to mankind. And Marbet would die, Capelo might die, Kaufman would certainly die. Magdalena was already dead. And Laslo, and perhaps Amanda. His fault.

  The door opened and an officer entered. This was it, then. Kaufman would have liked to see Marbet one more time.

  “Colonel Kaufman, put these on, please, sir.” The young man carried a full dress uniform.

  Kaufman said dryly, “Full uniform is necessary for this?”

  “Yes, sir.” He unstrapped Kaufman and left the room.

  Kaufman put on the uniform he hadn’t worn for two years. It was better than dying naked. The ceremonial sword was missing; Kaufman wasn’t surprised.

  However, the next events astonished him. The officer returned, saluted smartly, and said, “This way, please, sir. The others are already assembled and the admiral is on his way.”

  Others? Admiral Pierce? No, Pierce would be back on Mars. More debriefing wasn’t necessary, not with truth drugs. So what was happening?”

  Kaufman didn’t ask. He observed everything he could as the officer led him down a long corridor. Bulkheads and deck shone; sailors looked like recruiting holos; the air completely lacked the odors and staleness of intensive recycling. They were on a big structure, a station or a flagship.

  “In here, sir,” the officer said, opening the door and stepping respectfully aside to let Kaufman pass.

  “Hello, Colonel Kaufman,” said a tall thin man in the SADA uniform of a three-star general. Kaufman didn’t recognize him, but there was no mistaking the air of authority. This was the fleet commander.

  “Sir,” he said neutrally, not saluting. Technically, he was retired. Five other soldiers stood slightly behind the commander, two two-star generals and three bird colonels.

  The door
opened again and a lieutenant escorted in Marbet Grant. Gladness swept through Kaufman. Marbet wore a sailor’s tunic and pants; probably no other clothing had been available aboard ship. They were too big for her. Whatever injury she’d sustained to her rib had been repaired, or at least rendered temporarily insignificant by casts and drugs. Her bright green eyes smiled at him, and then studied everyone in the room, one by one. She didn’t look uncertain. Did that mean she knew what was going on?

  “Ms. Grant,” the commander said, without warmth. Kaufman recognized the familiar antipathy toward a Sensitive. The commander added to the lieutenant, “Where is Dr. Capelo?”

  “He’s being brought from Medical, sir. They’re on their way.”

  “Colonel Kaufman, Ms. Grant, sit down, please. I’m General Rickman Dvorovenko, Commander, Space Tunnel Number One Defense Fleet. I’ve brought—”

  “Lyle! I thought you were dead,” Tom Capelo said from the doorway. “In fact, I thought I was dead, too. This is your doing, isn’t it, Marbet? Clever, sneaky lady. I’d take my metaphorical hat off to you if I could move my non-metaphorical arm.”

  “Dr. Capelo, an honor,” General Dvorovenko said.

  “Not from my side,” Capelo said flatly. “I’m not too enamored of the army that has kept me locked up for six months.”

  “That was General Stefanak’s army,” Dvorovenko said. “The situation has changed. However, I would appreciate the chance to talk uninterrupted, Dr. Capelo.”

  Capelo shrugged. He was propped in a chair, which had been wheeled in by a doctor. He looked terrible, his broken arm and ribs in medcasts and his face sagging, but not as terrible as when Kaufman had seen him last. How many hours ago? No way to tell.

  “My first duty,” Dvorovenko said, “is to tell you that Admiral Pierce is on his way to congratulate you personally. He’s still on the Herndon System side of Space Tunnel Number One, but is proceeding with all possible speed to the tunnel and will pass through well in advance of the closing time your equations indicate, Dr. Capelo. He will be present for the press conference, of course.”

  Marbet shot Capelo a warning glance. He caught it and shrugged again. Kaufman realized that the two had already been brought together and had had a chance to confer.

  “Of course,” Dvorovenko continued sourly, “we would have preferred to break the news ourselves to the media about the admiral’s heroism and the tragic closing of the tunnels. But since Ms. Grant has seen fit to do so, it’s important that everyone understand how much information can be released publicly without compromising military security.”

  And then Kaufman understood.

  Marbet had added a broadcast to Tom’s farewell message to his family. While he had been out-racing the closing tunnels and the SADC military, she had quietly recorded the broadcast Kaufman had neglected to make. But unlike Kaufman, she hadn’t stuck to the truth. She’d told a version glorifying Pierce, a total lie, and then released it piggy-backing on Capelo’s message so Kaufman would have no chance to question its content. She’d tailored that content pragmatically, to save their lives. The transmission represented bargaining, not truth.

  And Kaufman thought he was the negotiator on this team.

  “I think, General Dvorovenko,” Marbet said, “that we all understand the situation. Dr. Capelo and Colonel Kaufman and I will say as little as possible. When asked questions, we will tell the truth, the same truth I explained on my transmission. That Solar Alliance Defense Council forces raced out to meet an overwhelmingly large invasion of Fallers before they could reach Space Tunnel Number One. That a major battle was fought in Gemini System, and when it became evident that the Fallers would win and invade the Solar System, our brave soldiers did the only thing possible, under Admiral Pierce’s orders.

  “Admiral Pierce knew from the brilliant work of Dr. Capelo, who had been working in secret for the good of the war effort, that if both artifacts were set off at prime thirteen that would not, as previously thought, destroy spacetime. Instead, it would cause the closing of the tunnels. Faced with that terrible alternative, Admiral Pierce ordered the artifact brought through Tunnel Number One. He brought all remaining human troops out and detonated the artifact by remote. And Tunnel Number One closed, saving the Solar System from destruction.”

  The entire table looked at Marbet: Dvorovenko with the dislike of a person forced to depend on someone he did not trust. Capelo with sardonic irony; he hated having to lie about what had happened, but would do it for the sake of his family. Kaufman with … what? With admiration for how fast she’d thought, and for the tidy aptness of her lies. And with sadness that she’d lied at all. Death, accompanied by truth, would have been more honorable.

  “Then we are all agreed on the facts,” Dvorovenko said, with the same sour tone in his voice. “The next step is to listen again to Ms. Grant’s recording. Then as soon as Admiral Pierce arrives, we can open the comlinks to the press.”

  “As soon as Admiral Pierce arrives.” This time Kaufman heard Dvorovenko’s voice, really heard it. That sour note was not because Marbet had released her transmission first. In fact, that probably added to Pierce’s credibility; the story of his heroism was being told by an impartial civilian. No, Dvorovenko’s sourness was because Marbet had glorified Pierce at all. Dvorovenko would have preferred Pierce to be vilified, because vilification would have led to counterrevolution. Dvorovenko supported Pierce in name only.

  Did Pierce know? No, or Dvorovenko would not be commanding the tunnel fleet. There must be many generals like this, supporting the supreme commander because the alternative was death, but also biding their time, waiting for their chance. The old, old story … conspirators and the crown.

  Kaufman looked at Marbet, shifted his eyes very slightly toward Dvorovenko. She gave a tiny nod. She had heard it, too. Or, more likely, she had known the situation from her first glimpse of Dvorovenko.

  There was no way for either of them to use the information. The deal had already been struck. Kaufman prepared himself to publicly praise Admiral Pierce, the man who had murdered Sullivan Stefanak, Laslo Damroscher, Magdalena, Ethan McChesney, Prabir Chand …

  “Colonel Brady, are the recorders ready?” Dvorovenko asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then in a few minutes … what’s that noise?”

  Shouting in the corridor. Running footsteps. A captain burst through the door. “Sorry, sir, you’re needed on the bridge, a priority-one SCI transmission and we’re the action addressee.”

  “Is that reason for such a disturbance?” Dvorovenko said testily. “Get those men quiet!”

  “Yes, sir. It’s the newscasts, sir.”

  Dvorovenko hurried out of the room. The two lesser generals glanced at each other, then followed him. The three colonels remained.

  Capelo said, “Put on the newscast, somebody. I don’t believe this sumptuous conference room doesn’t have newscast capability.”

  No one moved.

  “Oh, Jesus Newton God, I’ll do it myself!”

  But Capelo couldn’t get his power chair to move without help. He tried to climb out of the chair and fell back, wincing. Kaufman got up and coded the wall screen for outside newscasts; it was standard military issue. He expected the officers to stop him, but they didn’t. Probably they were curious, too.

  The screen displayed the “MQ&A News” logo. MQ&A was an underground newscast, frequently arrested and shut down by the government and then, phoenix from the ashes, resuming its voice elsewhere. They managed to put robocams or even live reporters in the most unlikely places.

  A news avatar who might have been any ethnicity said excitedly, “—still only rumors. However, the conspiracy to erroneously claim the space tunnels are closing is causing widespread panic among the corporations of the Solar System. The target of the conspiracy was rumored to be Admiral Pierce, expected to return from the other side of Space Tunnel Number One later today. Rumors say the admiral might have walked into a death trap. The conspirators, MQ&A has been
told, are even now being identified and rounded up by the SADC. Again, these are unsubstantiated reports that have been released to MBC from an unnamed source. However—”

  The screen blanked.

  “Those irresponsible bastards…” one of the colonels growled. She rose and left the room.

  Again Kaufman glanced at Marbet. She shook her head. Whatever was happening now, it didn’t originate from her wildcat broadcast.

  More shouting in the corridor, abruptly cut off. A second colonel left the room. The third one strode to the door and shouted, “Lieutenant?”

  “Sir?” She materialized instantly.

  “What the hell is happening out there?”

  “I’m not sure, sir, but they say … someone said…”

  “Said what?”

  “That the tunnel closed, sir. That we lost a ship, it just rammed into it and disappeared. And … and Admiral Pierce hasn’t come through yet.”

  The colonel glared at the hapless lieutenant. Finally he snapped, “Guard these people!” and left.

  “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant took up a position half in and half out the door, ears dearly attuned for more news from the rest of the ship.

  Capelo laughed. “Pierce on the other side of the closed tunnel”

  “You don’t know that’s it’s true,” Kaufman said. He felt dazed. Too much was happening too fast.

  “Are you warning me to respect facts, Lyle?”

  Marbet said, “Do you think MQ&A was right? That there was a conspiracy … No, wait a minute. The news avatar said there was a conspiracy to convince Pierce the tunnel closings were true although they’re really lies! But they are true!”

  Capelo laughed again. “And if Pierce is really trapped on the other side, the conspiracy’s against him, all right.”

  Kaufman saw the lieutenant was listening avidly. Kaufman said, “The conspiracy … if there is a conspiracy … was someone trying to get Pierce to believe the tunnels were not dosing, and that saying the opposite was only an attempt to lure him into ambush. If that’s so, it implicates you, Tom. Your work.”