The Mammoth Book Of Science Fiction

by Mike Ashley (Editor)

  But it was the lightning which gave them pause to think: vicious arcs between ground and cloud which started to stab with all the anticipated brilliance and fire but which were curiously extinguished by some constrictive phenomenon which pinched the plasma and quenched the arc. The result was a staccato “pop” instead of a thunderclap, and a rate of lightning repetition which occasionally generated a continuous tearing noise rather than the usual sounds of storm. But there was no doubting the destructive potential of the lightning bolts.

  Moved by unfelt winds, the thundercloud was drawing rapidly nearer, and Van Noon was more than a little apprehensive.

  “Better find some shelter, Jacko. This could be dangerous.”

  They looked about them. The ruins of a hovel, partly roofed with sloped and perilous slates, provided the nearest offer of sanctuary. This they accepted, and squatted within the miserable, damp, boxlike walls while the cloud moved overhead. Lightning stabbed at the path outside with a viciousness which seemed to contain some element of personal malice, but finally it passed. The cloud went spitting and snarling on towards the pillar of the Dark, and Van Noon and Jacko emerged to watch its progress.

  “I’ll teach Maxwell Courtney to speak of ‘interesting subclimate’,” said Van Noon ominously. “Let’s get out of here Jacko.”

  “You know, Fritz, I was just about to suggest the self-same thing myself.”

  “That was what they call a rogue storm,” said Courtney. “In the Pen you meet them quite a lot. They seem to form and disperse almost spontaneously, but while they last they can be very dangerous. They always travel fast, and always in straight lines. If caught in the open we avoid them by simply running out of the way.”

  They were seated in Courtney’s office in New Bethlem, and the broad windows of the room opened to a distant view of the Pen and its core of Dark. Courtney’s desk faced the window as if to give him a constant reminder of the broad enigma to which his life was currently dedicated. The attitude of his visitors’ chairs showed that they were no less aware of the dominating influence of the looming column of shades.

  “Well,” said Van Noon. “We’ve gathered a little data of our own on a preliminary survey, and I’m told you have acquired data by the ton. That puts you in a good position for answering questions, and me for asking them.”

  “Ask away,” said Courtney. “I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I can do you a nice line in inexplicable facts.”

  “What can you tell me about anti-energy or contra-energy effects?”

  Courtney whistled softly. “That’s a piece of fast thinking, Fritz. It took us two years before we could bring ourselves to consider the hypothesis seriously. But I know what you’re thinking. Most of the physical effects observed in the Pen can be satisfactorily explained only by thinking in terms of polar opposition – negation by precisely defined effects of exactly opposite character. The fact that these opposite effects are completely unknown to nature outside the Pen doesn’t necessarily invalidate the case for their existence inside the Pen. The very nature of the Pen and the Dark is obviously extra-physical, or we’d not have a problem in the first place.”

  “Precisely!” said Van Noon. “But you do admit the possibility of contra-energy?”

  Courtney spread his hands. “I admit it as a possibility. It’s certainly a basic premise which fits all the observed facts in the Pen. But it’s only one premise among many, and it doesn’t have much to commend it when you consider it a little deeper.”

  “Go on,” said Van Noon.

  “Let’s take an extreme case,” said Courtney. “You can prove it for yourself, or take my word for it, that the difference between the Pen and the dark is purely one of degree. Whereas energy negation in the Pen is only partial, that of the Dark is absolute.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. I’d guessed it anyway.”

  “Good. Now consider this: no matter what intensity, character, or type of energy we have applied to the Dark, we have had no discernible effect upon it, nor have we been able to pass any energy through even a thin sector of it. We have encountered absolute negation, Fritz, of any energy applied in any way. If you stick to your contra theory the implications are too complex to be true, and rather frightening.”

  “I think I understand you,” said Van Noon, “but I’d rather hear it your way.”

  “I’ll put it as simply as I can. If we fire a projectile at it, according to your theory that projectile needs to be met precisely at the perimeter of the Dark by what is effectively a counter projectile of identical mass travelling at an identical velocity to a precisely identical point. That makes too many coincidences for my orthodox-type stomach. And again, suppose we use X-ray bombardment or any other form of radiation. For precise negation this would need to be met at the identical point by contra radiation of the same intensity, wavelength, and phase as that which we apply. Either the Dark is an extremely broadband transmitter capable of producing any type of force, energy, intensity, and phase of radiation at any point on its perimeter at any instant without prior notice – accurately and instantaneously – or else the Dark is full of little green men with an uncanny knack of anticipating our test programme and arranging their contra facilities to suit.”

  “I get the point,” said Fritz. “How do you arrange to fire a projectile to meet an unexpected projectile head-on with precisely matched mass and velocity and to an impact position predetermined to an accuracy of plus or minus a few microns? It can’t be done. You’ve shaken some of my confidence, but you still haven’t encompassed the impossible.”

  “No? Then I’ll do so right away. For your contra theory to be true, the Dark would need to be a dynamic entity. It must necessarily give out exactly as much energy as it receives, for the negation to be complete. It’s been here for two hundred years, Fritz. Now calculate two hundred years of radiant energy from the Ithican sun alone and then add what we’ve flung at it in the last three years of experiment. You’ll see that it would need the energy resources of a small star in order to have the reserves to meet any demand. We dropped a nuclear Hell-raiser on it, and a Hell-raiser is a planet-buster, remember. What sort of power supply could conceivably meet a demand like that instantaneously?”

  “I don’t know,” said Van Noon, “but we can’t yet claim to know the ultimate in power sources. But very soon I intend to find a way into the Dark, and then perhaps we’ll find out.”

  “You can’t do it, Fritz. There isn’t a ghost of a chance of penetrating into the Dark.”

  “I think there is. And I think I know the very way in which it might be done.”

  “Whatever made you say that?” asked Jacko anxiously, as they left the room.

  “It’s a feeling I have,” said Van Noon. “I said I was going to play this by intuition, and right now my intuition tells me that the Pen and the Dark are contra-energy effects.”

  “In spite of what Courtney said?”

  “Certainly. I must admit he had a nice point about the projectile needing to be met effectively by a contra projectile if the contra-energy theory was to be maintained. It wouldn’t actually need to be met by a contra projectile, but merely by an opposing force of the right sort applied in the right place at the right time. I don’t doubt that Courtney’s correct that such a negation is necessary to substantiate the contra theory. But I do suspect that his data on absolute negation is not quite as complete as he imagines.”

  “In what way, Fritz?”

  “Well, I can’t conceive of a continuous pattern of negative energy which could deal with any sort of force or radiation applied at any point at any time. I can, however, conceive of a pattern of contra radiation or effect which is selectively produced in response to a particular stimulus at a particular point. But you see what this involves?”

  “No,” said Jacko.

  “It involves detection, analysis, and synthesis of a contra effect. Three steps – which must necessitate some sort of time-lag. Courtney has established that any appl
ied energy is negated – but I doubt if it can be negated instantaneously. The three steps may be completed in nano-seconds, but I’m quite sure that a time-lag must exist. Now I want to go into the Pen, right up to the Dark perimeter, and see if we can prove or disprove this.”

  “And if we prove it?”

  “Then I think we’ll have a way to drive a tunnel into the Dark and see what’s inside.”

  Jacko lost his power of speech as his mind strove to contain the enormity of the project. Fritz shot him an amused glance, and continued.

  “There’s a particular reason I want to go in, Jacko. There’s a second principle involved in this detection, analysis, contra-synthesis set-up which you might not have thought of. Something else is implied . . . and that something is some form of guiding intelligence.”

  They had chosen heavy caterpillar crawlers for their transport into the Pen. The choice was determined not only by the fact that a tracked vehicle was an advantage over the broken terrain but also for the reason that the vehicles possessed magnificently powerful engines and an ample reserve of power. Three crawlers were obtained for the expedition; one to run well ahead, one to act as reserve, and one to stay well in the rear with sufficient rescue equipment to recover either of the leading crawlers should the deeper Pen effects exceed the capacity of the engines to keep the vehicles in motion.

  Clothing for the party had been chosen for a simple property-thermal insulation. Although the actual temperature of the deep Pen probably did not reach freezing point it was essential to insulate the radiant heat of a man’s body against the contra-heat effect which would otherwise have striven to reduce the temperature of a man to the ambient point, with lethal effect. In this way the cold of the Pen differed from normal cold, and the expeditionary figures were clad as though for a journey to the arctic.

  Once clear into the outer perimeter of the Pen and out of the strong Ithican sunshine, the expedition began to appreciate the clothing which up to that point had caused them a barely tolerable condition of overheating. Now, as the light faded and the chill of the perpetual winter closed around them, they grew more comfortable. But the underlying seriousness of the venture was pointed-up by a change in the engine note to a more laboured level as both the functioning of the engine and the momentum of the vehicle were affected by the contra elements of the Pen.

  The leading crawler carried the bulk of the equipment, especially the precious lasers with which it was hoped to establish the existence of a time lag in the Dark phenomena. Van Noon was captaining the vehicle. Jacko was driving, and Pederson, an observer sent by Courtney, completed the party. Van Noon had intended their route to follow a road indicated on the old maps as running for nearly two kilometers straight in the direction of the axis of the Dark. The intention was abandoned quickly on finding that a building of considerable proportions had collapsed, turning part of the road into an unnavigable pile of masonry. The maps were forgotten and a new route was improvised as the situation demanded, having regard to the abilities of the crawler and taking advantage of the opportunities presented by the slow erosion of the Pen environment on the fabric of the old town.

  The light from the trapped cloudbase became increasingly leaden and dull until, at about five kilometers in from the perimeter of the Pen, Jacko was forced to switch on the headlamps. Their effect was negligible. Such light as they produced was robbed by some contra effect in the Pen environment and did little to disperse the muddy gloom. Van Noon had anticipated this and had a searchlight mounted on the roof of the crawler. The intensity of light from this was sufficient to permit their passage through the damp, dilapidated, ghost-like streets of Bethlem to within two kilometres of the Dark itself. Then that illumination too became inadequate.

  “Better get out, Jacko, and let’s estimate the situation,” said Van Noon.

  They descended, conscious of the acute contra-heat coldness which searched at their shrouded faces and probed at their wrists and ankles. They were conscious too, now, of contra-momentum, which gave an entirely false impression of the density of the air, since the effect was remarkably like trying to move under water.

  Pederson joined them, and they made a brief survey of the situation. Whereas from a greater distance the column of the Dark had been clearly visible, it was now merged into the claylike blankness of scene which made it scarcely distinguishable as a separate entity. Jacko tried the radio communicator, but the instrument was dead save for some rare static from a distant rogue-storm. The magnetic compass also had become nonfunctional much earlier, and though the gyro compass still purred unhappily in its box its readings were questionable in view of the conditions under which it was operating.

  The quality of light from the cloudbase was curious and unreal. Effectively the light from above should have given them far greater incident and reflected illumination than they actually experienced. This drastic attenuation of the light should have been explicable in terms of fog or haze, but nothing such existed, and their inexpressibly dreary state of near-night had no explanation save for that of an alien opposition to the fundamental laws of physics.

  “What are we going to do, Fritz?” Jacko’s own attempt to resolve the situation had reached an impasse.

  Van Noon looked back, hoping for an indication as to whether or not the second crawler had been able to follow their tortuous route to the spot. No evidence was forthcoming, so he shrugged his shoulders.

  “You two can vote me down if you want to, but I propose that we choose the most likely direction for the Dark and just drive blind until we hit it or stop.”

  “I’m with you,” said Jacko. “What about you, Pederson?”

  “Count me in. I’ve no ambition to walk back on my own.”

  They re-entered the crawler. Having decided on the most probable direction of the Dark, Jacko orientated the vehicle, locked the tracks on synchronization, and proceeded to drive straight into the unknown.

  The journey was a driver’s conception of Hell, a nightmare route across unfamiliar territory, effectively blind, and with no warning of what obstacle might halt or jolt them. Added to this was the rising resistance to movement, both on the part of the vehicle and of its occupants. Inside the driving cab even the instrument lights had become impossible to see, and the penetrating coldness finalized the depression which was settling over the spearhead of the expedition. Once or twice Jacko questioned whether they ought to attempt to turn back. Van Noon chided him gently and looked only ahead to the point where the darkness ought to terminate in a meeting with the absolute of the Dark.

  Constantly the vehicle rolled and bucked, and canted at dangerous angles as it encountered broken walls or piles of debris in its path. Sometimes it stopped with a bruising shock against some obstacle beyond its power to move. Jacko was skilful in such emergencies and withdrew the vehicle from each such predicament without stalling the engine, knowing that a stopped engine this far into the Pen would never be restarted. Bruised, and in constant danger from masonry from grazed walls crushing the cab, they endured the journey patiently; although with various deviations from the course which the presence of unsurmoun-table obstacles forced on Jacko, they had no certain idea if they were still headed towards the Dark at all.

  Then came the moment they had been dreading. In pitch darkness now, the crawler came to a sudden halt against something immovable. The tracks churned the soft floor uselessly for a half second, and then the engine stalled before Jacko could throw the vehicle in reverse. He tried the ignition cycle in vain, but the contra effects were too powerful to permit the heavy engine to be restarted. The silence grew absolute save for the tick-tick of metal cooling rapidly and Fritz’s voice cursing in a strangely muted way.

  “End of the line,” said Jacko finally.

  Van Noon opened the door. “As we’ve managed to get here we may as well see where we are,” he said.

  They climbed out. Their powerful torches were about as useful as glow-worms, and permitted an examination of no object more distant
than about a quarter of a metre. Beyond this was darkness in all directions except directly vertical, where a muddied stain across the sky mocked them with its inability to provide any useful illumination on the ground. Van Noon searched around him and picked up a short length of rotting timber with which he cast about in the darkness on all sides. Then he called urgently.

  “Jacko, are you near the crawler?”

  “I am,” said Pederson. “Just by the cab door.” He banged the metal, which returned a dull and unrewarding thud. Like their voices, the sound was strangely attenuated.

  “Good! Now, Jacko, can you place yourself by sound in a line between our two voices?”

  Jacko moved somewhere in the darkness. “I think I’m there.”

  “Right. Now we’re three in a line, with Pederson on the right, you central, and myself on the left. As far as I can make out, about three paces ahead of us is the Dark. Find something to probe it with, and don’t touch it even with your gloves. Maintain your orientation carefully so that you don’t lose direction and walk into it. It could be very dangerous to touch.”

  They advanced slowly, Pederson tapping the side of the crawler for identification, and Fritz and Jacko talking so that the sound of voices gave their relative positions. Even so, Jacko got there first. His probe was a shard of splintered ceramic with which he was striking before him as though at some anticipated enemy. Contra-momentum made this a difficult movement to achieve, and the darkness added to the soup-like resistance to movement, giving the whole situation a dream-like character without the visual qualities of the conventional nightmare.

  Then Jacko hit the Dark. It was detectable by its complete negation of the force with which he struck it. And it returned no sound, and in this way was distinguishable from any ordinary obstacle struck with force.