“Sensors, any contacts?” Scott asked.
Rochford frowned, then replied, “Not a thing, sir. There’s nothing here. Just the brown dwarf and a few distant asteroids, probably captured in primordial time, none nearer than ten billion miles.” He threw a control, and added, “Confirmed, sir. There’s no sign of anything on long-range sensors.”
“Close-range scan, then,” Scott ordered. “Let’s assume that the wormhole exit was positioned here for a reason. Helm, hold position. Kill our acceleration. I want to remain within a thousand miles of the wormhole for the moment. Clyde, talk to those scientists again, and…”
The door at the rear of the bridge snapped open, and Professor Watson burst through it, Belinsky behind him, yelling, “Keep us stationary! Don’t move us a damned meter, or we’re dead!”
“You heard the man, Ensign,” Scott ordered. “All stop, now!”
“Deceleration cycle complete, thrusters at station keeping, sir,” Cunningham said. “There’s a little drift towards the wormhole, Admiral. Should I correct it?”
“Keep us in place, Ensign,” Scott replied. “Lieutenant Chen, make sure the rest of the fleet is informed of the situation as soon as they arrive in-system. They’re to remain at the wormhole entrance until I directly order otherwise.” He turned to Watson, and said, “Now that we’ve got a little more time, Professor, I think I’d like to have some sort of explanation.”
“There’s a second wormhole in the system, somewhere close, somewhere damned close, within less than ten thousand miles. It’s new, brand new, probably connected within the last few weeks. That’s why we had such a difficult time returning to normal space. You’d have to be crazy to put two wormholes so close together. They’d be unusable in a hurry, maybe a few months at the absolute outside, before the local gravitational distortions would tear about any ship that tried to get anyone close.”
“Sensors, are we picking up a second wormhole?” Scott asked.
“That’s a negative, Admiral,” the technician replied. “All signs are that there’s only one wormhole in this system, the one we used to get here. I’m not seeing anything else on my instruments. Should I run a diagnostic check?”
“Only of your eyes, damn it!” Watson said, raging over to the console and pushing the young crewmen’s hands out of the way. “You won’t see it using the normal detection techniques if it hasn’t had enough time to…”
“Professor, I don’t need a long stream of technobabble. Just give me the co-ordinates of the wormhole and a projection of its likely destination.” He rubbed his chin, then said, “Professor Belinsky, might this match with the data you’ve uncovered from the ancient translations?”
“We know the Folk considered this place important, sir, and we know that something was scheduled to happen right about now. I suppose the activation of a wormhole could match up with that, but…”
“Got it!” Watson said, triumphantly. “About eight thousand miles away, four-one by nineteen.” His hands raced across the controls, and his eyes widened as he looked at the readings. “My God. I didn’t think it was possible. It shouldn’t be possible. I don’t understand…”
“What have you found?” Scott asked, rising from his chair and moving over to the sensor controls, the white-faced Watson frantically working the console. “Should we send a probe to take a look?”
“This just cannot be,” Watson said. “Admiral, are the sensors working properly?”
“All diagnostic checks look good, sir,” the technician said. “Professor, what are you seeing?”
Turning to face Scott, the cosmologist said, “The longest wormhole ever created by humanity is a little under twenty light-years long. We’ve got a probe on the way that will extend that record to twenty-two. We’ve seen a few shadow wormholes longer than that, into the thirties, but this is inconceivable.”
“A hundred light-years?” Scott asked. “A thousand?”
“More like a hundred thousand, Admiral. A hundred thousand light-years. Clear to the far side of the galaxy, on the far side of the central black hole. If my initial calculations are correct, anyone transiting this wormhole would come through somewhere close to the galactic rim. We don’t have any good star charts of that area. It would be nothing less than a leap into the dark.” He looked at the viewscreen, and added, “It must have taken hundreds of thousands of years to complete its journey. That we should arrive in time…”
“Could we transit it safely, Professor?” Rochford asked.
“I don’t know, Captain, I honestly don’t know. In theory, I don’t see any reason why not, but the speed any such ship would reach would be many orders of magnitude greater than any transit ever attempted. On the other hand, the Folk must have intended it to be used, and we’ve had no problems with the rest of the shadow network.” He paused, then said, “We could send through a probe, take a look for ourselves, but I’d have to figure out some significant updates to the navigational matrix. Given time…”
“How much time, Professor?” Novak asked, looking up from her station.
“A few days, maybe. Though…”
“Admiral,” Novak interrupted, “there’s a better way. Send a shuttle. It’ll be a much better test than a probe in any case. If the shuttle makes it there and back, we can have reasonable confidence that the rest of the fleet will be able to follow suit.” She smiled, and added, “I volunteer to fly it myself, sir.”
“Admiral,” Silva protested, “Commander Novak…”
“Are you objecting to the mission, Lieutenant, or the personnel assigned?” Scott asked.
“The personnel, sir. I’m the best pilot on the ship, and best equipped to begin a tactical analysis of whatever we find on the far side of the wormhole. Obviously, the Folk intended whoever found it to make use of it, and there must be something significant out there, waiting. Equally, the Exterminators must have some sort of idea about just where we’re heading, and I’d guess that at least one of their ships, possibly more, are heading our way right now.” Looking across at Watson, she added, “More than that, they set it up with a self-destruct system in place. We’ve got a limited window to make use of the wormhole, and I don’t think we can pass it up.”
“For the sake of science, if nothing else,” Watson said. “The information we could gather from such a transit could revolutionize our understanding of wormhole physics, perhaps give us a chance to design something of this order for ourselves some day. A design such as this could reach Andromeda, maybe further, and…”
Raising his hand, Scott said, “Bottom line, Professor. If I launch a shuttle, is this going to be a suicide mission for whoever is on board? I have no intention of committing to a manned mission unless it has a reasonable chance of success.”
“I think so, Admiral. And I’m confident enough that I’d be willing to go along for the ride myself. Someone with scientific training has to take part, in any case. I’m the best qualified for that.”
“What do you think, Clyde?” Scott asked.
“Risky, Admiral, but I don’t believe we have much choice.”
“I agree. Commander Novak, the shuttle is yours. Lieutenant Silva as pilot, Professor Watson and Doctor Bendix to accompany as scientific observers.”
“Yes, sir,” Novak said with a smile.
“I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Commander,” Scott pressed. “No unnecessary risks. Go through the wormhole, take a quick look, then come home. Keep it simple. Is that understood?”
“Completely, sir,” she replied.
“Then good luck, Commander. And good hunting.”
Chapter 11
Novak climbed into the co-pilot’s seat once again, hastily logging into the shuttle’s systems as Silva completed the preflight checks on her left. Behind them, the two scientists settled into their couches, Watson already looking with rapt attention at the sensor feeds streaming data in from their surroundings, conducting every possible check on the wormhole ahead. With an effort, Novak attempted to fo
cus on her work, but a part of her was still struggling to come to terms with what they were about to do. The longest voyage in human history, perhaps the longest one any humans would ever make, and she was about to command it.
A hundred thousand light-years. The far side of the galaxy. Still in the Orion Arm, but all the way around it, stars no human had ever seen. The Folk’s last act as a race had been to construct the gateway connecting the two, a portal that would remain open for only a very short time. A million ideas raced through Novak’s mind as she struggled to make some sense of it all, to come up with some reason for the creation of the wormhole. The best she could think of was that it was a means for them to escape, to flee the Exterminators forever, using a route that their remorseless enemy would be unable to follow.
If that was the case, then humanity was doomed. Their first attempt at an escape fleet had failed, and while it had just proven possible to avoid having news of the attempt leak to the public, the rumblings that had escaped into the media were on the verge of bringing the government down, the politicians unable to escape the unfounded rumors that they were attempting to flee, leaving the people they were meant to serve and protect behind to die. Even if a second escape fleet could be assembled, they’d never get it out here in time. Not if Professor Watson’s projections were accurate.
The Folk would have known that those same constraints would apply. Moreover, they could have no way of knowing that anyone would pick up their message. If they had perhaps managed to establish other seed settlements on distant stars, or arranged caches of knowledge to be picked up over the centuries, over the eons, then maybe they could have expected somebody to realize that they had to be in this system at this time, to take advantage of whatever lay at the other end of this multidimensional rainbow.
“We’re cleared for launch,” Silva said. “Ready to go on your order.”
“Let’s make history,” Novak replied. “Launch.”
With an almost anticlimactic clunk, the shuttle’s docking clamps detached, and the ship dropped away from the side of Leonidas’ hull, floating in free space for a moment. Silva fired the thrusters to aim directly for the wormhole, glancing periodically at the sensors to ensure the course computation was as perfect as she could manage, then reached down for the throttle, throwing the engines to quarter-power, content to gently guide them into position to enter the wormhole. Behind them, Watson anxiously checked his instruments, fine-tuning the sensors to gather all the information he could, knowing that a single mistake would kill them all before they even realized it.
As far as Novak could see, there was nothing there, nothing at all, just empty, endless space. The apex of the wormhole was small enough that it would be tough to enter, even for a shuttle, and the mighty starships behind them would have even more problems navigating through, especially without the data they were providing. It seemed all but impossible to comprehend what they were about to do, and somehow she knew that it wouldn’t seem real until they were actually on their way.
“Professor,” Silva asked, “the question of transit time…”
“What about it?” Watson replied. He turned from his work, and added, “I wouldn’t worry. Acceleration is usually constant in a wormhole, and that just means we’re going to reach high speeds. That this is a recently created gateway should help as well. I’d say we’ll crank up to ten, fifteen thousand light-years a minute shortly after entry.”
“Fifteen thousand light-years a minute?” the pilot said, shaking her head. “Seven to ten minutes for a transit halfway across the galaxy, Professor? Are you certain?”
“If I’m wrong, if we head through at any sort of a normal speed, it’ll be somewhere around two years, one way. Out of academic interest, how much life support do we have on this thing?”
“Three weeks at best, and that’s with water rationing and the pressure turned down low,” Novak said. “Let’s just hope we reach those speeds.” Looking up at the trajectory plot, she added, “We’re committed, anyway.”
“For trying this, we probably should be,” Silva said with a smile. “Coming up on entry interface in one minute.”
“Watch your entry speed,” Watson warned. “It’s going to be rough on the approach.”
Nodding, Silva said, “I’m already seeing some turbulence. Nothing serious, not yet.”
“Ripple effect from the two wormholes. That’s only going to get worse,” the scientist replied. Throwing a control, he added, “All sensor data is being tight-beamed back to Leonidas. Just in case we don’t make it back.”
“We’ll make it back,” Bendix said. “I’ve got a good feeling about this. Besides, the Folk wouldn’t have seeded the wormhole if they hadn’t meant it to be used. They planned this, a million years ago. We just need to finish what they began.” With a smile, she added, “Anything could be out there. Anything.”
“That’s what worries me,” Novak replied. “You’re clear for transit, Lieutenant. Make it good.”
“I always do,” Silva said. All eyes were locked on the viewscreen as the shuttle began its dive, a slight shudder as the ship broke through the gravitational eddies, struggling to hold the perfect course that would be required to enter the wormhole, a faint ripple on the screen finally visible at the last second. Sirens sounded from the ceiling speakers as the shuttle dived towards its goal, and Novak felt a wrench of stomach-churning nausea, felt bile rising to her mouth, and saw grey on the fringes of her vision, as though her mind were desperately attempting to shut down, to shield her from whatever was transpiring.
As she surrendered herself to oblivion, somewhere in the distance, she heard a faint, familiar whisper, the same voice she had heard on the Exterminator ship, quietly saying, “Come, my friend. Your journey is almost at its end.” She struggled to rouse herself, struggled to respond, but another wave of pain hammered through her, and she finally, mercifully, collapsed into unconsciousness.
It could have been seconds or centuries before she finally awakened, an urgent series of bleeps and beeps coming from the command console. She struggled to rouse herself, her head a bitter agony, and attempted to focus on the controls. There was a foul smell in the air, and she glanced across at Silva, who had evidently failed to keep her breakfast in her stomach, the front of her uniform a mess. Behind her, a low groan came from Bendix, and Watson was sprawled across the sensor console, blood trickling from an angry gash on his forehead.
“Doctor,” she said, gagging at the bitter taste in her mouth. “Doctor Bendix, wake up, damn it.”
“Wha?” Bendix replied. “What happened?”
“Tell you when I know myself,” Novak said. “Take a look at Professor Watson. First aid kit’s under your couch.”
Nodding, the linguist said, “I’m on it.” After a quick examination, she turned to Novak, and said, “Still breathing, at least.”
“That’s a start,” Novak replied. She took the helm controls from the still-oblivious Silva, and breathed a quick sigh of relief. They were still in the wormhole, holding a straight and steady course, and as far as she could tell, travelling if anything faster than they had expected, peaking at an unimaginable twenty thousand light-years per minute, relative to external space. They were decelerating now, slowing frantically in order to emerge from the wormhole at anything like a survivable speed, the controls locked into safe position by Silva before her collapse.
“Possible concussion,” Bendix said, waving the medical scanner over Watson. “I can try a stimulant, but this gadget seems to think that wouldn’t be a good idea.” Tugging a bandage from the medical kit, she asked, “How long?”
“Less than a minute. Leave the wound for the moment. I don’t think it’s going to get any worse. Strap him down, tight, and then you do the same. If the exit is as wild as the entry anything might happen when we emerge.”
“On it, ma’am,” Bendix replied, as Novak reached for Silva’s harness, tugging it hard, securing it as tightly as she could, trying to avoid the congealing mess on he
r uniform. She turned back to the helm, resting her hands on the controls, trying to breath deeply, to calm herself before the transit. A countdown clock started to trickle down on the viewscreen, second rushing after second, and at last, she felt a familiar tingling sensation as they slid out of the wormhole, anticlimactically returning to normal space.
Except that at first glance, the local space was anything other than normal. The stars ahead were blood-red, not healthy white, and there were long trails of light reaching between them, a spider’s web of unimaginable intensity leaping from star to star. Novak sat back in her couch, unable at first to comprehend what she was seeing, a hand reaching for the sensor controls on instinct, beginning to gather data to confirm the unimaginable.
“What the…,” Bendix said. “Commander, the stars are wrong. Radiation levels down, and…”
“Stellar engineering,” Novak said, her voice quietly reverent. “We always wondered where the supercivilizations were, the races who were born when the stars themselves were young, the planets barely formed. Civilizations able to shape the cosmos itself to suit their ends, to twist eternity to their satisfaction.” Gesturing at the screen, she added, “Dyson swarms, to harness the energy of the stars they orbit, and lasers to send billion-ton masses on million-mile sails from one system to the next.”
“Picking up lots of gravity waves, Commander,” Bendix said.
“Black holes, at a guess. Part of the power system, most likely. The amount of energy required to keep a civilization such as this on the move is almost too incredible to grasp.” Shaking her head, she added, “We really are small, insignificant little creatures, aren’t we? Pathetic little bipeds, daring to wander around the wonders of creation without understanding what we do. Doctor, you are looking at civilizations who count eons as we count decades, who think nothing of moving the stars themselves in their courses.”
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