by David Drake
The dust cloud fell inward.
“Singularity,” Dostchem announced. “The gravity well has achieved infinite length. A black hole.”
Whatever force had prevented the helmet’s incredible mass from expressing itself was gone. Down, down, down came all the debris blasted off by the hell-bomb, streaking back in at velocities that approached the speed of light. Some fragments crashed back down into each other as they fell. The impact energy of the debris strikes lit up the sky anew. The flashes of light reddened and snapped off abruptly as the black hole pulled them in, dragging down the very light waves themselves.
“Once it goes, there’s no stopping it,” Tallen said. “Break the integrity of the controlling system, and it all collapses in on itself.”
“Are you talking about the helmet, or the Pact?” Spencer asked. He looked out there at the stars. The succession was still in doubt, the rival factions circling the rich prize of government like vultures jostling for the best pickings.
“Both, I suppose,” Tallen said. “But is the Pact that far gone?”
Spencer shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted. This battle, this war was over. There were many others yet to come. “All I know is the helmet can’t destroy the Pact. But if you want to know if we can do it to ourselves—
“You tell me, Tallen. You tell me.”
