Wyrmhole

by Jay Caselberg

  “Call Francis Gleeson,” he said.

  It only took a few moments for Gleeson’s face to coalesce on the display.

  “Stein!” he said. “I thought you said your system was out of action.”

  Jack sighed. “Long story, Francis. It’s only for incoming stuff. I need you to do something.”

  Gleeson frowned, a touch of exasperation slipping into his expression. “What is it now?”

  Jack paused for a moment, gathering the words. He didn’t like feeling stupid. “We have to cancel the Dairil III stuff. I’m not going.”

  “But you said –“

  “Yes, I know what I said, but the answer’s somewhere else, closer to home.”

  “I told you I thought –“

  “Yeah, yeah. I know what you said. Okay, you were probably right. I should have listened to you. But forget about that now. Are you listening? So this is what I need you to do.”

  Making sure that Gleeson had gotten over his brief sense of victory and was paying full attention, Jack continued.

  “There has to be another research establishment somewhere else. It could be offworld, it may not be. My suspicion is that it’s close by. My other guess is that it is not here. Some planet in system, somewhere like that. I need you to go through records, look at the time period that the facility on Dairil III was established, and see if you can come up with another destination. They had to be shipping stuff out there.”

  Gleeson blinked a few times, processing the information. “Yes. Tomorrow. Yes. That makes sense. But … I have to fix the other things too.”

  “Okay, Francis. If you’re fine with that? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “But how can I…?”

  “You can reach me through my handipad. Okay. I’m sending you the link now.”

  Jack sent the command, and immediately cleared down the wallscreen, leaving Gleeson blinking owlishly at the other end. That done, he got up and headed in to make himself a coffee, suddenly feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. No real answers yet, but he was a lot closer to what he needed, in more ways than one. A hell of a lot closer.

  oOo

  Gleeson called him mid afternoon. Jack had been sitting on the couch, dozing, when the vibration of his handipad dragged him back to consciousness. He flipped open the handipad and peered blearily down at the screen. Gleeson’s face was troubled, from what Jack could see in the reduced image. He kept glancing nervously off to the side.

  “Francis, that was quick.”

  “I can’t talk for long,” he said. “Once you’d given me the pointers, it wasn’t too hard to find out. There’s only one real possibility – an agricultural world about a week’s travel from here called Pandora. There was a lot of equipment shipped out there around the time you said. Lots of stuff that wouldn’t really be warranted in a purely agricultural operation.”

  For once, it appeared Jack had been right. “So what do you suggest we do?”

  “It’s going to be a little harder to cover,” said Gleeson. “We’ll have to work something out. Something that will stand up.”

  “So?”

  “I’m working on it. You’ll have to give me a little time.”

  Gleeson glanced to the side again. “Listen, I have to go. Meet me later. I should have something worked out by then.”

  “Your place?”

  “Tonight,” he said and cut the connection.

  oOo

  Once more, Jack traced the increasingly familiar route to Gleeson’s apartment. Gleeson ushered him inside without any ceremony. As he closed the door, Gleeson leaned back against the wall just inside.

  “I’m starting to become worried, Mister Stein,” he said.

  Starting? Jack suppressed a grin. “Why, what’s the trouble, Francis? And I’ve already told you, it’s Jack.”

  “Well, with everything that’s going on, I can’t help feeling that we might be being watched. If I’m not, at least you probably are.”

  “Yeah, well, it comes with the territory.”

  Gleeson grimaced. “Well, the sooner this is over and done with, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “You and me both,” said Jack. “So, what have you got for me?”

  Gleeson beckoned him inside. On a side table sat a package, marked with the Outreach logo.

  “This is the best I can come up with,” he said. “It’s a corporate courier package. I’ve issued the appropriate authorities. You’re to be a personal courier from Warburg to the administrative offices of the facility on Pandora.”

  Jack rubbed his neck. This time it was his turn to grimace.

  “I don’t get it,” he said. Why send a courier at all.”

  Gleeson nodded quickly. “I know, it may seem strange, but it’s not unheard of. There are sometimes certain sensitive materials that Warburg wants hand delivered. It’s just the way it works. You have to trust me on this. Nobody is likely to question and they’re not going to want to see inside the package. That’s why they’re hand delivered.”

  “Okay, that might work, but surely they’re delivered to someone.”

  “Well, yes. I have a name. Only use it if you have to. I’ve put material in there that is likely to require personal attention, financial stuff. It won’t mean much to anyone who doesn’t understand it. A casual inspection will pass scrutiny, perhaps, but apart from that, you will be pretty much on your own.”

  Jack picked up the package and hefted it. Not too heavy, easy enough to carry with him. Gleeson had done his groundwork.

  “Okay. How do I get out there?”

  Gleeson nodded again. “Haulers run that way about every two days. The next one’s tomorrow. With the identity card I give you, it won’t be any trouble getting out there. The package will lend weight to your story. I don’t envisage any problems. I’ve also made some rough notes about Pandora, about the administrative section there and anything else I could think of. I’ve transferred them to my home system.”

  Jack fished out his handipad. “Thanks, Francis.”

  “I will of course delete these as soon as you’ve downloaded them. Make sure you have them saved.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Okay,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

  Gleeson looked him up and down, a slight pursing of the lips evident. “I would suggest a change of clothes, and a shave wouldn’t go amiss either. Wear something dark and sober.”

  Jack looked down at his rumpled clothes, ran his hand over his chin. Gleeson was right. It was about time he started to get his shit together.

  “Done,” he said. “Okay, I’ll be in touch when I return, if I return. Wish me luck, Francis.”

  EIGHTEEN

  It was longer than a week — more like ten relative days. He used the time to catch up on lost sleep. The weeks of surviving on stim patches and Rapiheals took its eventual toll, so with nothing else to do, he let his body recuperate. Thankfully, most of the sleep was dreamless. He’d gone out and bought a new set of clothes before leaving, something dark and sober, just as Gleeson had suggested. After the shave, and the change, he barely recognized himself in the mirror. He could barely believe he had let himself slip so far.

  There were a couple of other people on board, administrators, engineers, cargo crew, but they kept pretty much to themselves and so did Jack. There wasn't much to talk about. The sense of relief when they ship finally docked at the station above Pandora was enormous. Jack wasted no time in organizing the shuttle to the surface. The sooner he was down there the better. How the hell could people do this for a living?

  One more hour aboard a shuttle and he was down. The transport eased to the ground, settling first one way, then the other, and finally coming to a complete halt. He had to give the pilot credit; it was a pretty smooth landing. Jack took a long, slow breath, held it, and then let it out just as slowly. This was it. Pandora.

  He waited for the signal that he was clear and unstrapped. Now, to put the pass Gleeson had work
ed up for him to the final test. It had worked so far, but you never knew. If it came to it, he could claim he was just investigating operations on the planet. It would be a push. He had no background in the sorts of agricultural operations that occurred in a place like this, but he would have to make do. The old mining investigation on Dairil III story just wouldn’t cut it here. He still didn't know what he'd find, but somehow, this time, he knew this was the place. There was more than simple nervousness working in his guts.

  A slight clunk and the noise of machinery signaled the opening of the doors. He grabbed his bag from the locker next to him and stood. As the door slid open, he was ready for what he'd see — farms were farms, after all — but nothing quite prepared him for the vast lines of cropland stretching on and on into the distance. It was a clear day, and he could see for miles. Everywhere was green. There was no sign of settlement, just field after field after field. No sign of people either, which was a good thing. The odd piece of machinery stood near the fields, looking like strangely metallic scarecrows, and somewhat out of place against the variegated green background.

  As the stairs settled to the ground, he shrugged off his coat, looped it through the straps of his bag and squinting against the open sky, made his way to the doorway. He hesitated at the top, trying to work out which way he would head, but a voice came over the intercom, prompting him to action.

  "You okay back there, Mister Stein?"

  "Yeah, thanks." No one there to meet the transport. That was good. "Just acclimatizing."

  "Takes a bit of getting used to, doesn't it?"

  "Yeah, well. I've seen worse. Thanks again for the lift." And with that, he stepped out into the open landscape, scratching his head. So where in the hell was this research facility?

  The pilot made sure Jack was clear before retracting the steps and shutting the door. He wasted no time getting the transport underway, and within moments, it was a fading dot against the pale bright sky. Jack stood where he was, barely able to track the diminishing shape against the glare. Which way now? He had a rough idea of the layout of the landscape — where the population centers lay, but most of this world was completely automated. Gleeson's hastily scribbled notes had shown him that. The best clue they had was the location of Pandora’s administrative center. Computer equipment, scientific tools, all these had been shipped out here. It made sense for that sort of equipment to wind up in the complex that ran the world for Outreach. It was also the most logical place to site whatever research effort they had going here. The planet was populated by Outreach people, no native inhabitants, and company people were likely to be less interested in what went on in the offices and hallways of company bureaucracy. They were all company people here.

  The landing strip was little more than a patch of open ground, cleared in the midst of all the fields. A single ramshackle hut sat off to one side. A couple of vehicles sat parked at the edge. He considered them briefly, weighed up the options, and realized he had little choice. Shouldering his bag, he headed toward them.

  The long, flat vehicles were similar to working vehicles anywhere. A cab at the front, and a flat carrying area at the back. Electric motors by the looks of things. He felt the gravity too — not as intense as back home — somehow making everything lighter, less real. With a grunt, he heaved himself up into the front of the nearest vehicle and checked it over from the front seat. The cab was dusty, the smell of fresh earth filling the interior. Jack sat for a moment, just experiencing it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smelled that particular scent. Nothing in the Locality was as natural as that. A discarded water bottle lay behind him, and he gave a wry grin. It was just as if he'd left it here for himself from the dream on Dairil III. He reached back and snagged it. The weight told him it was full. He didn't know how long the drive to his destination would take. The water might come in handy. He looked over the panel, and found it was simple button for ignition. He pressed it, and the motor whirred into life. Simple controls. He hit the shift to engage, and steered the car into a wide arc, across the landing strip and onto a simple dirt road that led away.

  He bounced along in the car, barely skidding around corners on the loose dry earth, puffs of dust floating away behind him. It was funny; he always did things better in the dreams. In the dreams, he could drive these things. The drive took around half an hour, and as he traveled, the wide open fields gave way to low rises and finally to hills. When he was at a distance he thought far enough away, he stopped the vehicle and got out, dusting off his clothes while he looked at the distant administrative complex built into the side of a taller hill, all glass and steel, and somehow strangely out of place in the middle of this fertile landscape. A series of pipes ran back up the hillside behind, disappearing over a ridgeline above. He would make the rest of the journey on foot, not wanting to announce his presence too early, not knowing quite what he was going to find. He reached into the cab and shuffled around inside his bag, pulling out the package that Gleeson had provided him. If he met anyone, and they questioned why he was on foot, he’d just say he had problems with the vehicle’s engine, that it had died, stranding him in the middle of nowhere and leaving him with no choice but to walk.

  It took about another hour to walk the distance to the complex, and he kept a watchful eye as he drew closer, trying to keep out of the direct line of sight as much as possible. Nearer to the buildings, he tried to decide his best route, but there was nothing to give him a clue as to his best access point. Blank glass walls looked over the hills below. There was nothing else. Jack clutched the package in front of him, and pursed his lips. Somewhere here lay an answer, but there didn’t seem to be anything obvious. He was feeling suddenly very exposed, out here in the open fields. It wouldn’t be long before someone spotted him. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the Dairil III dream, looking for some sort of clue.

  Slowly, slowly, he opened his eyes again. There, above the office buildings. Those pipes, whatever they were, running up the side of the hill, behind and above the office complex. They weren’t usual. They must lead to something, just as there had been conduits above the mine entrance on Dairil III. They led somewhere too. Up above, there was some sort of escarpment. Tucking the package under his arm, he headed that way, off to the side and above the offices themselves.

  With the pipes serving as his guide, he clambered up the slope, occasionally checking, behind and below, making sure there was no one to observe his progress. Finally, sweating with the exertion of the climb, he crested the lip and stepped out onto a flat, rock strewn shelf, and there, sitting in front of him, in the side of the rock, invisible from below, sat a set of doors. Nodding to himself, the resolve growing inside, Jack walked toward the entrance.

  The doors were twin, splitting the entranceway into two. Cross-banded webs of black painted metal we punctuated by a thick, smoked glass-like substance, obscuring whatever lay within from view. Jack looked at the forbidding barrier and knew there was no way anyone could shift those doors on their own, so he looked around for some means to activate whatever would open them. If he were lucky, he wouldn't need to contact anyone inside. The doors stared at him as he stood there, grimacing. Okay, then bluff it was. He searched for some sort of intercom or camera. Nothing. Still, he didn't have to be able to see it for one to be there.

  "Hello," he yelled. "Anyone there?"

  Silence. No sound at all from anywhere. Usually there was some noise of some sort, but the world itself was deathly quiet. The only sound was that of a slight breeze, stirring the long leaves of the surrounding vegetation, marking the boundaries of the flat rock expanse. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the pass Gleeson had arranged for him looking for some sort of clue. The card was virtually blank. Maybe he could see something through the glass, if it was glass. He walked to the doors and pressed his face up against the opaque surface, trying to peer through. As he brought his hand up to shield his eyes, a thunk shuddered through the doors' material, quickly followed by machine noises. J
ack looked up at his hand and stepped back. Of course. The card that Gleeson had given him was a key. Simple. Bringing it close enough to the doors had triggered their opening mechanism. As the doors pulled apart, a wash of cooler air chilled the surrounding air and the slight dampness of his brow. Grateful that it had been so easy, he stepped inside and headed down the corridor that stretched further into the complex, if complex it was, alert at every step in case he should meet someone.

  The passage led deep into the heart of the hillside and seemed to go on forever without a break. With the vast doors sealed behind him, the sound of his own footsteps sounded loud, too loud. He caught himself trying to creep along without making too much noise, then grinned. Stupid again. He had every right to be here. His pass said he did. If he was caught skulking down a corridor, then that was really going to be believable. After a while, he focused on another noise, something stirring deep beneath the sound of his own footfalls. He'd been half aware of it since he entered the place, but hadn't really noticed it. A deep throbbing vibration ran through the walls and floor, like the sound of some vast machinery. Whatever it was, it was big. Too big for a simple research facility. He headed down a side passage, in a direction where the vibration seemed louder.

  oOo

  Jack rounded a corner and came face to face with ... Pinpin Dan.

  "Dammit. Shit," he breathed.

  "Well, well. Jack Stein! You look like you've seen a ghost." Pinpin gave him a tombstone grin then brayed with laughter. "Ah, young Jack. The l

  oOo

  k on your face. I can assure you, dear boy, I'm very much alive. Sorry to disappoint you."

  Jack simply stared. He could barely believe Pinpin's casual attitude after all that had happened. He didn't even seem surprised to see him. The same old tombstone teeth, lank gray-yellow hair plastered to his skull. He was dressed in some sort of gray coveralls, buttoned at the front. If anything, Pinpin’s flesh looked more pale and fish-belly white.