The Lion and the Lizard

by Brindle, Nathan C.

  "I've got radiation from fallout on the ground and in the cloud," reported von Barronov, "so whatever it was, looks like it definitely was nuclear."

  "Preliminary estimate, 50 kilotons," added Wolff. "So it was no toy."

  "Radar penetrating ground scan on your holoscreens," said Ariela. "And isn't that interesting."

  The two men looked at their screens. "Look at that fucking tunnel system," said von Barronov, in awe.

  "They didn't dig all that in the thirteen years they've been on the planet," observed Wolff. "I think a lot of that is natural, and they've just tapped into it. Like we were telling Ariela, it's probably where all the water is, and for all I know, vegetation, too."

  "Oh, man," exclaimed von Barronov, "if that's hooked into their aquifers, they may have just poisoned all the water on the planet."

  "Let's hope they had blast doors . . . and used them," said Wolff, grimly, recalling an incident where RIFs in spacecraft hadn't been so smart. "But, Chris, this looks like a massive underground installation they built in that spot. Look how far out the surviving pieces of it reach. They've done a ton of work right under our noses and it looks like it was all about building a research establishment to get themselves – what? Back into space? Or just to a tech level high enough to do something like terraform the planet?"

  Von Barronov shook his head. "We may never know," he said, "if the people doing the research went up in that pyre."

  "Can we go back like twenty minutes, then watch it happen?" asked Ariela. "We might see something we missed by already being past the site."

  Wolff rubbed his chin, thinking, then looked at von Barronov, who sat, impassive. "Set it up," he said. "But put us in geosync right above it, and we'll hold that position."

  "We can't change anything," von Barronov reminded him. "And probably can't get anywhere near it, so don't ask to go closer."

  Wolff shrugged. "We probably don't want to change anything," he replied. "My wild-ass guess is whatever happened down there was a good thing – particularly since they aren't supposed to have any tech that would allow something like that to happen."

  "Okay," nodded von Barronov, and started setting controls.

  Wolff looked back. "Lieutenant, turn on every sensor you can find. Let's scan this to a fare-thee-well."

  "Aye, aye, sir!" replied Ariela, already looking through the menus.

  Von Barronov finished fine-tuning the rotation controls, and looked at Wolff. "Ready here."

  Ariela looked up. "I've turned everything on but the kitchen sink. Hope you have enough storage for all this data."

  Von Barronov smiled. "Several exabytes free, I imagine."

  "What the hell is an exabyte?"

  "A million terabytes," said Wolff.

  "Holy shit." Ariela looked amazed. "I think the biggest I've worked with in research was ten petabytes."

  "Well," said Wolff, "we had some . . . design assistance." He grinned. "The Frumious Bandersnatch has the only set of zettabyte quantum quaternary holocubes extant in this trunk line – a zettabyte being a thousand exabytes. I guilted the Great Simulation out of five of them after our last encounter, and Chris and I built a RAID array with them. Did we ever figure out which RAID level it ended up at?" he asked the other man.

  Von Barronov looked thoughtful. "No. I mean, technically, and externally as far as our computers are concerned, it's a RAID 10, two mirrored stripe sets. But the internal array being four-dimensional, I don't really even dare think about it. In point of fact, it's only five zettabytes in normal, 3D space. The Simulation said it might be unlimited in 4D quantum space." He shook his head. "I don't even know how we'd back it up. The address translator we had to code for our 1024-bit computer systems was enough of a bear as it was."

  "The Simulation," said Wolff, "backs everything up. So we'd go to the Simulation and ask it to restore the data. But we need to move on. You're ready? Ari, you ready, too?"

  Affirmative responses came from them both.

  Wolff reached up again and flipped the safeties. "Getting a workout today," he grunted. "Rotation, in three, two, one," and he flipped the big red switches.

  "Time hack?" he inquired.

  "Twenty minutes to the explosion, on my mark, mark," said von Barronov. A console clock started ticking down.

  "Full scan running," reported Ariela.

  "I'm going to adjust our attitude a bit so we're looking down at it," said Wolff. He hit a button, and adjusted the setting of a pop-up wheel. The view out the port shifted until the Bandersnatch was pointed straight down at the planet.

  "Much better," agreed von Barronov.

  "You guys want something to drink?" asked Ariela. "I'm going back to get a cola."

  "Same, thanks," grunted Wolff, deep in thought about something.

  "Bottled water, if we have it," added von Barronov. "Thanks, Ari."

  Ariela got up and walked to the back of the ship, where the kitchenette and lavatory were. She disappeared into the lavatory first, emerged after a couple of minutes, grabbed the drinks out of the refrigerator, and returned forward.

  "Never pass up an opportunity," grinned von Barronov.

  "My mother taught me well," Ariela grinned back.

  Wolff accepted his bottle of cola, twisted off the top, and took a long swig. His mind was obviously off somewhere else. "I keep wondering where they got a bomb," he said. "I don't think any of us would have censored publicly-available information about it from the library we let them take. The technology is hard. You're dumped on a planet where you've been provided with a basic city large enough to hold you with a little crowding, and enough materials to expand that. You get hydroponics and vat-grown meat. You get a deep well drilled down to an aquifer we finally found at 10,000 feet. What you do not get is the sort of tools and electronics you'd need to build a nuclear weapon – or for that matter, to even refine any uranium you might find to make fissionables for it. Yet, thirteen years later, a nuclear weapon, or something very much like one, goes off on your planet."

  "We might have to come back here and do some time diving," said von Barronov, reluctantly.

  "We might, at that," agreed his friend.

  "We agreed to stay off the planet," said von Barronov.

  "They agreed to accept exile," replied Wolff. "Seemed like a fair return, until we show up and a fucking nuke goes off in our face."

  There wasn't really much to say to that.

  Time ticked away, as time tends to do, and the countdown clock reached 00:30. Ariela stiffened and clicked something on her holotab. "Scan image coming to your screens," she said. "Big energy spike at the site."

  "Hmm," said Wolff. "Thirty seconds out? Interesting."

  "Whoa!" shouted Ariela. "At fifteen seconds, BIG energy spike, BIG graviton spike, HUGE tachyon spike, prompt radiation at ground zero is off the charts, and there's a trail of . . . something . . . shooting off-planet, into low orbit . . . and it ended up at the terminal station!"

  "And, boom," observed von Barronov, as the clock hit 00:00, the ground erupted, and the plume built again into the troposphere, hitting the tropopause at 60K feet and mushrooming out.

  "Big EMP at zero time," reported Ariela. "Though that's probably obvious."

  "Man, even from geosync, that's something to see," remarked Wolff. He turned back to Ariela. "Did you say tachyon spike? And gravitons?"

  "Yes, sir," she replied. "To your screen?"

  "Yes, thanks." Wolff turned to his holoscreen, looked at it, and scowled. He turned a knob and the sensor data magnified. Turning the screen so von Barronov could see it, he said, simply, "Singularity."

  Von Barronov stared at the screen. "Can you up that a little more? Say to 100x."

  Wolff turned the knob again.

  Von Barronov closed his eyes, shook his head, and leaned back in his seat. "God damn it. Four of them."

  "Yeah, right? X, Y, Zed, and Tau alignments." Wolff pointed at one of the traces. "There's Tau, in neutral position, more or less. So they aren't doing
time hops."

  Von Barronov opened his eyes. "Hmm. Ari, give us the trail of particles that went from the explosion site to the terminal."

  Ariela fiddled with her holotab. A different view popped up on the men's holoscreens.

  "I think," said von Barronov, "we just proved the existence of time crystals."

  "You may be right," acknowledged Wolff. "We sure don't throw them off like that. They must not have the thing properly aligned."

  "Or, they don't know what the fourth singularity is for, and don't need it for three-dimensional transport, so they don't bother aligning it." Von Barronov laughed, tiredly. "Insh'allah. Not Martha's Sons, as you pointed out aboard Constellation."

  "Okay, but that didn't cause the nuclear explosion," pointed out Wolff.

  "Yeah, that's a mystery . . . and really closely timed to whatever got transported to the terminal. Kind of smacks of sabotage to me."

  "Picking up a signal," reported Ariela, "FM analog voice, 146.52 megahertz, F3E emission. 25K0F3E specifically. That's a 2 meter ham radio!"

  "Signal from where?" asked Wolff.

  "Oh, sorry. From the terminal station. It just cut off . . . now it's repeating."

  "You recorded it, right?"

  "Yes, sir. Playback now." They listened.

  It was in Chinese, a language none of them knew well. "Nín hǎo, dìqiú fēichuán. Wǒ jiào Prisha. Wǒ de nǚ'ér Naira hé wǒ zhèngzài al-Saḥra' zhōngdiǎn zhàn shàng, xīwàng bèi jiē zǒu. Wǒmen shì bèi núyì de zhōngguó guómín, qǐng bāngzhù wǒmen. Qǐng kuài diǎn lái, yǎngqì hěn shǎo, wǒmen gǎndào hěn ěxīn. Wǒ huì chóngfù. . ."

  "Translator," said Wolff. Von Barronov punched a couple of buttons on the radio console.

  "Hello, the Earth ship. My name is Prisha. My daughter Naira and I are aboard the al-Saḥra' terminal station and wish to be picked up. We are Chinese nationals who have been enslaved, please help us. Please come quickly, there is little oxygen and we are feeling very sick. I will repeat . . . "

  Wolff and von Barronov exploded into action. "Setting up for the terminal station," said von Barronov.

  "Ari," said Wolff, urgently as he scanned his own controls, "when we come out of rotation, I need you to go into the airlock and guide me in. I can do it with cameras but it's easier if I have human feedback. Chris will get us within a few feet and I'll maneuver from there. Got it?"

  "Aye, aye, sir. You want me to go now?"

  "No, strap in just in case. I have no idea what we're getting into."

  "Aye, aye." All three started clicking into their restraints.

  Von Barronov looked at Wolff. "Set up."

  "Okay," replied Wolff, "rotation warning, in three, two, one." He reached up, flipped the safeties, and threw the big red switches.

  The Frumious Bandersnatch came out of rotation within a couple of feet of the station airlock. "Nice," grunted Wolff. "Ari, go!"

  The girl unstrapped and ran for the airlock, opening the inner hatch and propping it to stay that way, then ducking into the small space. "Okay," came her voice, "we're pretty well lined up."

  Wolff's mouth quirked. "Not upside-down, then," he said. "That's a relief."

  "Oh? How would I know?"

  "Can you read the writing on the outer hatch?"

  "Yes. It's right-side up."

  "Then we're right-side up. Okay, I'm bringing her in. Got to inflate the docking collar first." He flipped a switch, and a hissing noise sounded for a few seconds. "Can you see it?"

  "Yes, sir. Docking collar inflated and is solid."

  "It won't be a perfect fit, but it will lock in magnetically when we make contact. Stand by." Wolff watched the cameras as he rotated two of the pop-up wheels simultaneously. The Bandersnatch inched toward the station until the collar touched the other airlock, and the magnets clicked into place. "How does that look?"

  "I don't see any voids."

  "There's a pressurization button for the docking collar. Hit it."

  There was another hiss that cut off after about ten seconds.

  "That moved the gauge next to the button and the needle is steady at five PSI."

  "Give it a few seconds . . . still steady?"

  "Like a rock."

  "Hit the button again."

  The hiss was longer that time.

  "Fourteen point seven PSI."

  "Good. We all run oxy-nitrogen at Earth sea-level atmospheric. Give it a few seconds again."

  "Still steady like a rock."

  "Hit the button next to the pressurization button. Should be purple."

  "Done." They heard and felt mechanical grapples slam home.

  "Okay, that's the ship grapples. Now we won't move. I'm coming back. Chris, keep an eye out for anything stupid."

  "Will do."

  Wolff unbuckled and fast-walked to the rear. He entered the airlock, swung the inner hatch closed behind him and dogged it, and motioned Ariela to let him move up to the outer hatch, which she did. "Okay, now we open up." He grabbed the wheel and twisted; the dogs dropped loose, and the outer hatch opened slightly. "Good. Good pressure on the other side." He swung the hatch the rest of the way open, into the airlock.

  "This airlock is tiny," complained Ariela.

  "Yeah, well . . . be glad we have an airlock at all. Most ships this size don't."

  Wolff stepped out into the docking collar, which to be fair, wasn't very large, either – just about big enough for Wolff to fit between ship and station, so in reality, he sort of set one foot in the collar, so he could get close to, but not right up against the hatch. "There should be a Halligan tool in the lock."

  "This?" Ariela proffered a long bar that looked like a crowbar on steroids.

  "Exactly." Wolff took the Halligan tool and used it to bang on the station hatch. When nothing happened for several seconds, he banged again, harder.

  A face appeared, dimly lit, in the hatch window. The mouth moved; Wolff made out something like "Oh, thank God," or the equivalent. The face disappeared, and the wheel on the outside of the station's outer hatch wiggled, but didn't turn. Wolff banged on the hatch again. The face reappeared.

  "CLOSE THE INNER HATCH AND DOG IT!" Wolff shouted. The face looked confused, then cleared and nodded. It disappeared again, but Wolff could hear a hatch close and dogs slam home.

  "Not a spacer, or she'd know about the interlock," he grunted. "I hope these two are skinny." He grabbed the wheel and turned it himself; it turned easily, now, and the dogs on the inside of the hatch dropped out. He pushed the hatch and it swung in. "Hello the house," he said.

  A woman, dark-skinned, wearing what appeared to be an orange prison jumpsuit and an orange floral hijab that hid most of her face from view, peered out. "Are you from the Earth ship?" she asked, haltingly, but in perfect, British-accented English.

  "Yes. In fact, we are the Earth ship. The Research Vessel Frumious Bandersnatch, and crew, under temporary U.S. Space Force orders, at your service, madam." He bowed slightly.

  She giggled in sudden relief. "Oh. I know that story. Poem, actually. Have you a Vorpal sword?"

  "As a matter of fact, madam, I do, but it is back on Earth. Will you come across?" He offered a hand.

  "Oh! Yes . . . I will need help with Naira. I am so weak, I cannot pick her up." She passed a hand across her brow, and suddenly looked ill. "I do not know why we are both so sick. We were fine before the machine activated."

  "I see. Well, you go ahead, that is my daughter Ariela behind me, and she will help you until we can get closed back up and go into the ship proper. I will get Naira, and close the hatch." He offered his hand again, and she took it, walking across the docking collar and into the Bandersnatch's airlock. Ariela reached out and grabbed her, just in time to prevent her from collapsing and hitting her head on the deck.

  "Dad," she said, "she is really, really sick. And if I'm not mistaken, it's radiation sickness, likely from that spike we saw in the data. The daughter is probably in the same shape, if not worse. They must have caug
ht a hell of a dose."

  "We'll get them aboard as fast as we can," he assured her, turning back to the station lock. He pushed the hatch farther open and saw the daughter, Naira, lying on the deck. Naira, also wearing an orange jumpsuit but no hijab, was very pale, with short, straight dark hair and somewhat-Chinese features, but Wolff still saw something of her mother in her face. "What the hell is going on down there," he growled, and bent down to pick Naira up. "We didn't transport any Chinese that I know of."

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she screamed. "Maan! Madad! Yah aadamee kaun hai?"

  Wolff reared back, hands open and arms spread wide, neutral expression on his face. Whoa! I don't know what she's saying, but she's got a hell of a fright going on, he thought. And that sure doesn't sound like Chinese to me.

  "He is an American," came her mother's voice, faintly. "He is here to rescue us. Let him bring you across to his ship – and speak English, with respect."

  "Damn it to hell," swore Wolff, letting off the tension under his breath. "Naira, listen to your mother. I need to pick you up and carry you over. I don't think you'll make it on your own. Are you feeling sick?"

  "Yes," said the girl, who Wolff figured was about ten years old. "Very sick. I will go with you." She closed her eyes again, and, apparently, fainted dead away.

  Wolff picked her up gently, rose, and turned back to the Bandersnatch. "Ari, can you take her? She doesn't weigh a minute."

  "Yes. Funny, that's what Dad used to say, too. Other Dad. Real Dad. You know what I mean." She took the girl from him, and set her carefully next to her mother on the floor of the lock.

  Wolff turned back to the station lock, and swung it shut, spinning the wheel and setting the dogs tight. Only then did he step back into the Bandersnatch, closing its outer hatch and dogging it as well. He reached up and punched the button marked COLLAR DISENGAGE, and a pump started somewhere to scavenge the air. First the short passageway pumped down to a vacuum, then the collar's magnetic locks detached and it deflated, pulling back into its storage cabinet as it did. He punched the UNDOCK button; the mechanical grapples obediently detached with a ker-chunk, and the Bandersnatch floated free. "Chris," he said, "move us about a hundred feet away from the station, will you?"