by Cixin Liu
“What about the nations' nuclear weapons systems?” an ant listening asked.
Rulley, once again utterly calm, answered the question. “It is exactly as we had planned: All of the dinosaurs' nuclear systems, including their ICBMs and their strategic bombers, have been reduced to scrap metal by our massive deployment of thunder grains. There are no reports of unforeseen accidents or cases of nuclear contamination.”
“Excellent! This really is a great moment in history. Now we must merely wait for the dinosaur world to destroy itself!” Kachica was clearly euphoric.
The High Command's celebrations were short-lived. Only moments later an ant secretary reported that Joyah had returned, urgently demanding to see Kachica and Rulley.
The Chief Scientist had barely entered the Command Center, her body and mind worn to mere shadows of her former self by exhaustion and worry, when Kachica began her angry rebuke. “Professor, you betrayed the great cause of the Ant Coalition at the eleventh hour. You will be judged very harshly indeed.”
“When you have heard all that I have to tell you, you will understand who of us will be judged in the end,” Joyah answered coldly.
“Why did you go to see the Gondwanan Emperor?” Rulley inquired, obviously more interested than angry.
“To learn the truth about Luna and Leviathan,” Joyah explained.
The Professor's words immediately cooled the ants' jubilant excitement and they all began to focus the countless facets of their compound eyes on Joyah.
Joyah looked around at them, and then asked, “First, who here knows what antimatter is?”
Silence fell among the ants.
After a few moments Kachica spoke. “I know this much: Antimatter is a kind of matter predicted by the dinosaur physicists. Its atomic sub-particles are said to be charged in a way directly opposite to our world's matter. Should antimatter ever come into contact with our regular matter, both would be completely transformed into energy.”
Joyah nodded her feelers. “Now we all know what can be more terrible than a nuclear bomb. At equivalent mass, a matter-antimatter annihilation can produce an explosion several thousand times more powerful than that of a nuclear bomb!”
“But what does that have to do with the mystery of Luna and Leviathan?” Kachica asked, now obviously worried.
“Please listen carefully: Do you remember the sun that suddenly appeared in the night sky of the Southern Hemisphere three years ago?”
Of course everyone present remembered the event.
Joyah knew they would. “That flash was the result of a small celestial body that entered the solar system along a comet's path. That object was a mere twenty miles in diameter, nothing but a small rock floating in the solar system. It was, however, entirely made of antimatter! When it passed through the asteroid belt, it collided with an object. The annihilation of asteroid and antimatter caused a massive explosion; the very flash we saw. At the time, the Laurasians and Gondwanans both launched probes and both came to the same conclusion: That the annihilation had produced many antimatter fragments in all manner of shapes and sizes scattered through space. The dinosaur scientists were quickly able to determine the position of some of these fragments. Doing so was very simple: The particles of the solar wind were annihilated as they struck the antimatter, which gave these pieces of antimatter a very peculiar glow as they drifted through the asteroid belt.
This all happened at the height of the Laurasian and Gondwanan arms race and so the two great dinosaur nations almost simultaneously came up with a plan born of nothing but sheer insanity: They would gather some fragments of antimatter and bring them back to Earth. Using them, they would create a super weapon far more powerful than any nuclear bomb; the ultimate deterrent against the other side....”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Kachica interrupted Joyah. “There is an obvious error with your logic: Matter and antimatter annihilate each other when they come into contact; what container could hold it and allow it to be safely returned to Earth?”
“The dinosaur astronomers discovered that most of the body had been composed of antimatter iron,” Joyah continued. “And the pieces of antimatter they located were also made of antimatter iron. Antimatter iron is just like our world's iron and can be affected by electromagnetic fields. That meant that the problem of storage was very solvable. The solution was a container holding a vacuum capable of generating a strong magnetic field. This field could restrain magnetic material placed inside of the container. Using this, the antimatter could be held firmly in the center of the container, preventing it from making contact with the interior walls. The antimatter could therefore be stored, transported, and deployed wherever the dinosaurs desired. At first, this plan started out as pure theory. Actually using such a device to bring antimatter back to Earth would be an incredibly deranged and insanely dangerous endeavor; but dinosaurs are crazy by nature and their desire to rule the world conquered all other concerns, and so they actually went through with it!
“The Gondwanan Empire took this first step toward hell,” she continued. “They designed and manufactured the containment device as a hollow sphere. As it prepared to capture the antimatter fragment, the sphere was split in two, each half affixed to the robotic arms of the spaceship. The spaceship then slowly approached, gathering the small piece of antimatter between the two hemispheres with the greatest of care. Finally, the fragment was sealed in the center of the sphere. Superconductors began generating the magnetic field that held the fragment in its center. Then, the spaceship flew back to Earth with its terrible cargo. The Gondwanan space vessel returned, carrying a forty-five ton fragment of antimatter into Earth's atmosphere. Had it made contact and been annihilated, ninety tons of pure energy would have been unleashed in the sky. The resulting explosion would have wiped out all life on Earth. Of course, the Laurasian dinosaurs had no desire to be obliterated together with the Gondwanans, and so they could do little but helplessly watch the spaceship land in the ocean.
“What happened next escalated the madness, pushing it to the peak of insanity,” she said, a warning in her tone. “After the Gondwanan spaceship had landed, the sphere containing the antimatter was loaded onto a large cargo vessel. The name of the vessel was the Leviathan and because of it, the dinosaurs came to call the antimatter fragment it carried 'Leviathan' as well. Contrary to all expectation, the ship did not return to Gondwana; instead it set course for Laurasia. When it arrived, it was moored in Laurasia's largest port! The Laurasians dared not impede the progress of the ship of doom. All they could do was watch it make course, powerless to stop it from sailing right into their port. Once the Leviathan had cast anchor, its dinosaur sailors boarded a helicopter and left for Gondwana, abandoning the ship were it lay.
“The Laurasians came to view this strange gift with fearful reverence, not daring to disturb it in any way. They knew that the Gondwanan's could remotely control the sphere and shut off its magnetic field at a moment's notice. If that should ever happen, the antimatter fragment would make contact with the sphere's wall, annihilating both, inescapably eradicating all life on Earth. Even so, it would have been Laurasia that would have been destroyed first, its lands burnt to ash in the blink of an eye by the deadly sun exploding on its shoreline. It was the Laurasian Republic's darkest day. The Gondwanan Empire now firmly held the reins of all life on Earth. Rampant and without restraint, the Gondwanans made claim after claim to Laurasia's territory and even demanded that the Republic disarm its nuclear arsenal.
“This lopsided state of affairs was not to last long,” Joyah said to her fascinated audience. “A mere month after the Leviathan had set sail, Laurasia responded in kind. Using the same technology, they removed a second fragment of antimatter from the heavens and returned it to Earth. They continued mirroring the Gondwanan's actions: Deploying the container sphere on the cargo ship Luna, they sailed it into Gondwana's largest port.
“In this manner, balance was returned to the dinosaur world. It was the balance of the ultima
te deterrent; a balance that pushed all of Earth to the brink of the abyss. To avoid global panic, 'Operation Leviathan' and 'Operation Luna' were carried out under a shroud of absolute secrecy. Even in the dinosaur world only a disappearing minority was aware of the true details of the situation. Neither operation spared any cost to guarantee the reliability and dependability of the equipment. They ensured that everything was built using replaceable modules and that the entire system was small in scope. Because of this, it could be maintained without ant involvement and so the Ant Coalition remained unaware of its existence to this very day.”
Joyah's account left all ants of the High Command in shock, plunging them from the peak of victory down into an abyss of dread and deep distress.
Her antenna quivering, Kachica said, “This is more than madness – it is outright depravity! This ultimate deterrent is nothing but the total destruction of the entire Earth! It would render all political and military considerations absolutely meaningless; it is complete and utter depravity!”
“Professor, this is the fruit of the very curiosity, imagination, and creativity that you praised so highly,” Marshal Rulley flatly stated, a note of ridicule in her pheromones.
“Let us stick to the issue at claw and return to the unimaginable danger facing the world,” Joyah answered coldly. “We need to talk about the anti-timer that the heads of the dinosaurs' great nations brought up. To prevent a crippling preemptive strike, both dinosaur nations almost simultaneously put the Leviathan and Luna on a new form of standby; they called it 'Anti-timer'. From that point on, the two antimatter devices no longer relied on a remote signal to detonate them. Instead, in a complete reversal, they would receive a signal to stop them from detonating. The spherical containers were put in a perpetual state of counting down to detonation. Only a remote interrupt signal from a signal station located in each respective nation could suspend this countdown and reset it. Once the signal was received, the anti-timer would immediately restart, counting back down to zero as it awaited the next interrupt signal. Each and every one of these signals was personally sent by the Gondwanan Emperor or the Laurasian President. If one nation should suffer a paralyzing first strike, it would be unable to send the interrupt signal; the sphere's countdown would reach zero and the antimatter would annihilate. The containers' standby setup made a first strike tantamount to suicide and the continued presence of the enemy a prerequisite for survival. Of course, it had also significantly raised the global threat level. As if this ultimate deterrent was not enough, the anti-timer took it to a new level of madness, or, in the words of the High Archoness, utter depravity.”
Again, High Command fell deathly quiet.
Kachica was the first to break the silence, her pheromones trembling. “Does that mean that right now the Leviathan and Luna are waiting for the interrupt signal?”
Joyah nodded her feelers. “And perhaps those signals can no longer be sent.”
“Are you implying that we have destroyed the Gondwanan and Laurasian signal stations with our thunder grains?” Rulley asked, showing a rare high level of shock.
“Indeed,” Joyah answered glumly. “Baltzara showed me where the Gondwanan signal station is located. He also told me where their reconnaissance had located the station of the Laurasian Republic; after my return, I compared the information he provided with the database of Operation Linebreaker and I found these small signal stations. Because we did not understand their purpose, we only allotted a few thunder grains to their communication equipment. It was thirty-five grains in the Gondwanan signal station and thirty-six in the Laurasian station. In total, we severed sixty-one wires. Even though that is a relatively small number, it is still enough to completely disable the signal emitters in both of these installations.”
“How long is each countdown?” Rulley inquired.
“Three days, about sixty hours. Both the Gondwanan and the Laurasian countdown begin at around the same time and the interrupt signal is usually sent about twenty-two hours after the countdown started. The current countdown started twenty hours ago. We have two days.”
Rulley considered this grim information. “If we knew the contents of the interrupt signal, we could set up our own transmitter and continuously stop the Leviathan and Luna's countdowns.”
“The problem is that we do not know and we cannot find out!” Joyah’s frustration was evident. “The dinosaurs did not advise me of the signal's contents, but they did tell me that it is a very complex and long password and that it was changed every time it was sent. The password's algorithm is stored in the computers of the signal stations. I do not think the dinosaurs still know it, as it’s been changed by now.”
“That means that the signal can only be sent by the signal stations,” Kachica noted.
“I think that is the case.” Joyah nodded her feelers.
Kachica quickly considered their options, then said, “We can do it, but we must act as quickly as possible to salvage the situation.”
CHAPTER
8
The Battle of the Signal Stations
The station that transmitted the Gondwanan Empire's interrupt signal was located in a badland near the outskirts of Boulder. It was a relatively small installation, equipped with a complex aerial. From the outside, it looked to be no more than a humble weather station. The installation's guards, a mere unit of dinosaurs, led a very relaxed life. Their duty was mostly limited to keeping away the occasional Gondwanan citizen who inadvertently wandered too close to the facility. Not for a moment did they worry about enemy spies or saboteurs. The station did not require extra security; after all, Laurasia was more interested in the security of this facility than Gondwana was itself.
Other than the sentries, only five dinosaurs were responsible for the daily operation of the signal station. These five were an engineer, three operators, and a maintenance technician. Like the guards, they had no idea as to the station's true purpose.
The station's control room was dominated by a large screen displaying a perpetual countdown, always starting at 66 hours and then counting down. The countdown was never allowed to count below 44 hours. Every time it would reach that point – with the sole exception of this fateful morning – the face of Emperor Baltzara would appear on another screen and their monarch would utter a single, short sentence: “I decree that the signal be sent.”
The operator on duty would stand at attention and answer, “As Your Majesty commands!” Then the operator would go over to his terminal, move his mouse cursor over the “Send” button on his screen and click. Once this simple task had been completed, the main screen would display: “Interrupt signal sent – Receiving interrupt success return signal – Countdown reset”.
Then, the screen would return to its display of the countdown, starting a new cycle at “66:00”.
On the other screen, the Emperor would watch intently as these actions were being performed, right until the countdown began anew. Only then would he visibly relax and his image vanish from the screen. The intense stare on the Emperor’s face as he watched the signal being sent betrayed its importance, yet these ordinary dinosaur operators had no way of even imagining that every time they sent the signal they were delaying Earth's death sentence by another day.
This day, their steady routine of two years was interrupted when they noticed that their signal transmitter had broken down. The signal station had been outfitted with the most reliable components and equipped with a wide array of back-up systems, yet this breakdown, however, seemed to affect the entire facility. Even the secondary systems stopped functioning altogether. It seemed almost certain that these problems could not be the result of wear and tear or accidental causes. The engineer and the technician immediately began to look for the source of the problem. They quickly discovered that a few wires had been cut – wires that only ants could reconnect.
The dinosaurs on duty attempted to contact their superiors to request a team of ants to repair the equipment only to discover that the telephone,
too, had now failed. Continuing their appraisal of the situation, they found more cut wires. Even as they discovered the damage, the time for the Emperor's call was rapidly approaching. Left with no choice, the dinosaurs attempted to connect the cables by hand, but their crude claws made the task completely impossible. The five dinosaurs were left with nothing but their own worries and anxieties.
Even though the telephone was disconnected, they firmly believed and hoped that communication would soon be restored and that the Emperor would appear on his screen before the countdown reached 44 hours. For two years the Emperor had appeared on that screen as reliably as the Sun rising in the east. Not seeing him seemed almost entirely unthinkable.
Yet, on that Cretaceous day, the Emperor did not appear. For the first time the countdown ticked down below 44 hours, and it continued to count down in merciless monotony.
Soon they realized that they could no longer count on the ants: It was they who had destroyed the emitter. Dinosaurs fleeing Boulder had passed by the station and brought with them accounts from the capital. It was from these terrified and shaken refugees that the station dinosaurs learned that the ants had destroyed the machines of the Empire with thunder grains, paralyzing the entire dinosaur world.
Despite this grim news, the dinosaurs in the signal station conscientiously remained focused on their duties, continuing to attempt connecting the severed wires, but the task remained impossible. Most of the cut wires were located in parts of the machines too small for the hefty dinosaur claws to even reach; and where they could reach the wires, things did not fare much better. No matter how hard they tried, their unwieldy appendages made any hope of connecting the ends impossible as the wires slipped and slid between the tips of their huge claws, eluding every effort.
