by Set Wagner
Elia watched him as if hypnotized. I gently shook her shoulder.
“The contact,” she murmured and then pulled herself together. “Ehrlich! Contact in thirty seconds. Be ready.”
‘I’m ready!” Reder said. After a second or two he added, almost to himself, “I’ve been ready for this for ten years!”
The diaphragms of the plasma tube were fully open; the opposing poles of the buffering zones were activated. The annihilator was prepared for the impulse that would create the ultimate vacuum, the beginning of the nothing. And its end at the same time.
Vernie entered the next computer command.
The words “pending complex return to contour one” appeared on the screen.
All was calm at the Yusian base. They had no cause for alarm—not yet. The strange Yusian was simply enjoying his everyday jaunt. He reached the top of the hill.
“contact!” Elia reported.
In the downstairs gallery, Reder froze.
From his position at the control desk, Vernie reached for a button, the only one covered with a glass membrane. Sweat streamed down his face. His hand was trembling. He jerked it back and then extended it again.
“No—don’t do it!” Elia whispered. “We’re insane! We can’t—no.”
I quickly approached him.
“Vernie, Elia! I’m waiting for the signal!” Reder yelled.
Elia didn’t move. Vernie looked at me, his eyes as wide open and empty as the eyes of a lunatic.
“What’s going on!” Reder yelled again.
“Everything is OK,” I answered.
“Simon! For God’s sake, how—”
I hit the glass membrane with my fist and pressed the button.
The emergency system produced a deafening clamor. I turned it off. A few more seconds passed when nothing happened, except that the strange Yusian started moving, ready to head down the hill, and continue wandering. But he didn’t have a chance. The camouflaged plate beneath him suddenly spun to one side, and he fell onto the descending platform. At this very moment came the first explosion. The plate shifted back in place and the ferns above it quivered and—disappeared. A blinding white wave filled the screen, the camera’s last transmission.
We stared intensely at the screen showing Reder. The camera blinked two or three times before the picture stabilized. Reder looked perfectly fine. He even waved at us triumphantly.
“It’s over.” Elia was stunned.
“Just the opposite,” I objected. “Your real work is just beginning.”
She regarded me with undisguised, unrelenting hostility.
“Back to work!” I turned to Vernie.
He pulled up the view of the hill from a further camera located on one of the defractor towers. Its panoramic picture included the field where the grass had transformed into ferns just three days ago. Now, of course, there were no ferns. The first annihilation wave, though not as powerful as before passing through the buffer zones, had transformed the entire terrain into something glassy and smooth, a gigantic black mirror reflecting the crimson rays of Shidexa. As the camera zoomed in, the hill looked like a huge reddish-black bubble about to burst.
“That’s not enough,” I said.
“I know. But we have to wait.” Vernie pointed to the other monitor.
The platform carrying the strange Yusian had now descended to the floor of the gallery. He was lying on it, probably still dizzy, and Reder, with remote control in hand, maneuvered the claws of the hoist directly over him. They closed around his body, slowly moved it to the back of the armored truck, and set it down, and the top closed. Reder climbed in front and drove through the gallery. We watched until he was out of range.
His efficiency was admirable: all this was accomplished within forty seconds after the first explosion. There had still been no reaction from the Yusian side—but that wouldn’t last much longer.
Vernie now looked very calm, having finally accepted that there was no turning back now. He had obviously calculated every single step: after the explosion, the marker on the display monitor returned back to the black line, indicating that the whole system was stabilized on the very edge of the upcoming disaster. Even that disaster was stabilized, frozen like some impossible hurricane waiting only to be directed by one elite engineer from Earth, Philip Vernie.
“I’m far enough from there now,” Reder said on the phone. “Keep going, Phil!”
As Vernie increased the intensity of the plasma stream, the speakers erupted in an uncoordinated chorus of emergency signals. Almost every device in the central technology hall was about to fail.
“Wait!” I exclaimed. “Where are the robots?”
“In the underground storage sector. It’s safe for them there.”
“Damn it! Why didn’t you warn me?”
“About what?”
I broadcast a top-priority message over the direct line to the server. “This is base commander Terence Simon. This is an emergency. All essiko robots are to move immediately to Building B of the defractor!”
“Annihilation wave number two in twenty seconds,” Vernie reported.
“Delay it!” I ordered him. “I need at least fifty seconds! I repeat: all essiko robots to Building B! Run!”
“I can’t stop the reaction, Simon! Neutralization will only increase the impulse power. The consequences will be—”
On the screen I saw the robots rushing out of the storage sector. “Delay it, Vernie! Hold it—I order you.”
He activated the neutralizers.
“Ehrlich!” Elia screamed in panic. “The impulse power will be increased. Be careful!”
The defractor devices looked only slightly compromised; when it passed through the buffer zones, the first wave barely touched them. The robots were running precisely in that direction: more than two hundred of them, maybe three hundred—a huge, compact crowd. I waited until they reached the front line.
“Now!” I told Vernie.
He reacted instantly. I saw the second wave hurtling straight toward the robots. When it exited the buffer zone, it opened like a big white fan and launched the whole crowd into the air. As they melted they continued their rhythmical motion, still “running,” though now they looked like loosely assembled skeletons. When their energy batteries exploded almost in unison, the wave broke through the buffer zones to the side, slicing off more concrete, ceramic, and metal from the periphery of the devices.
“I’m at depth fifty,” Reder reported, out of breath. “The temperature is rising! Things are collapsing around here!”
“Can you keep going?” I asked.
“I’ll try. Did you destroy them, Simon?” All of them?”
“Yes, I’m sorry I caused you—”
“Oh, don’t worry! I would have done the same thing. In fact, the damage isn’t that great. It will just slow me down a bit.”
“OK. We’re waiting for you, Reder.”
While I talked to him, I never took my eyes off the monitor displaying the Yusian base. Still no response.
I unblocked the door to the surgery room. “Elia, it’s time to finish preparations down there. I want a surgical suit for me too.”
She exhaled forcefully but gave me no other answer as she passed me and went downstairs.
The second wave wasn’t over yet. Instead of subsiding, the aftershocks suddenly increased in strength. A series of quakes followed, but the key devices were still working. Only two of the mock towers fell, first leaning as if blown by a strong wind and then buckling. Vernie relaxed and turned the speakers off. But we heard other noises—coming from Reder’s phone.
I felt my hair stand up. “Reder!”
“Relax,” he answered but sounded scared himself. “The road in front of me was just blocked by a boulder. The flexor won’t be enough. I’ll have to use an explosive.”
“No! That could cause new collapses. Wait! Stay in the car! I’ll send an REM robot to help you.”
“Hurry,” Vernie said brusquely, taking my plac
e in front of the monitor displaying the Yusian base. “The situation here is pretty much under control, but those creatures are going to show up any minute now. Or at least they should.”
The REM robots were situated at equal distances along the gallery where Reder was. After studying the situation, I activated the one closest to him. It took me about ten seconds to adapt to the interactive goggles. The collapse had knocked out the lights, so what I saw was relayed by the REM’s infrared receptors. The images were blurred and unclear, as if I were looking through the eyes of a drunk, and like a drunk, the REM staggered forward at a snail’s pace. This might be the latest, most improved, Earth model, but it was still very imperfect. As much as I tried to coordinate them, its “hand motions” were irritatingly clumsy, but it was strong enough to toss rocks aside like feather pillows. Still, clearing the way seemed to take forever.
I finally saw the front part of the truck beneath the rocks, blurred but also gleaming luridly because Reder had his helmet light on. He was sitting in the cab, probably listening, his head turned toward the rear of the vehicle. I listened too. Because of the fuzzy radio connection, I could hear nothing but his heavy breathing, which worried me.
“Reder! How’s it going with you?”
“With us!” He snorted. “Well, it’s damned hot for me, Simon, but not for the Yusian. It has a space suit on and is more—is better adapted. Yes, the Yusian is fine. Just sitting there.”
“The REM is six meters away from you,” I continued. “There’s only one boulder left, but it’s too big to pick up. Try to cut it vertically about a meter or meter and thirty centimeters to your left. I can see from here that it’s much thinner there.”
“Hurry!” Vernie reminded us again.
Reder took out his flexor and managed to cut the rock without leaving the truck. His skill didn’t surprise me. I had the REM approach the spot, dislodge the part of the boulder that still weighed at least a ton, and roll it to the side. I repeated the action with the other, lighter, section. Finally I parked the REM next to it.
“Go!” I told Reder, but he was already moving.
“At maximum speed!” Vernie advised him, but Reder didn’t need that advice.
The vehicle quickly disappeared from the infrared view of the REM, which made everybody happy. I cut my sensor connection with the REM and concentrated on the sounds coming from Reder.
A minute later Vernie said, “They’re coming.”
At first I didn’t understand, but then I saw them: miniature black dots, growing larger by the second. They expanded into a swarm of black bugs.
“They react slowly, don’t they?” Vernie smiled disdainfully. “This ‘accident’ is probably their first emergency in a hundred years, maybe even a thousand. Reder, where are you?”
“Approaching depth one hundred and twenty,” he answered. “Sweep them out, Phil! Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”
“Maybe you won’t need to, my friend. You keep going, and I…I’ve prepared for this too!”
From another closer camera, the Yusian “airplanes” already resembled a flock of black, ungainly birds. Vernie waited for them a little longer and then lowered the containment barriers around the annihilator and, from its protected position, deployed its awesome force. He winked at me mischievously as his hands started dancing across the keyboard, a brilliant performance that produced a devastating silent movie on the screens.
The towers still standing rocketed off the ground as if shot out of cannons, carved short parabolas in the air and collapsed back down in clouds of dust. The coordination center burst into flames, its windows exploding and the glass shattering into millions of sparkling red particles. The biostation exploded too, as if it were filled with dynamite. Panels, concrete, metal, machine parts, and even whole machines flew into the air.
The black flock turned left and started moving in the opposite direction but not as quickly as before. There was obvious confusion in the already disordered squadron, a lack of comprehension, as if they were asking each other, “What’s going on?” I couldn’t help smiling.
“I passed depth one hundred and thirty,” Reder informed us. “How’s it going with you?”
“Perfect!” answered Vernie. “I’ll give you a copy for your birthday.”
“How far does he need to go to be safe?” I asked in a low voice.
“At least to depth two hundred. Otherwise it’s going to get—much hotter.”
“Too hot,” Elia added behind my back.
I hadn’t noticed her return. She was looking at me accusingly, and not without reason.
“I hope you understand that everything up there is evidence,” Vernie explained calmly. “The last wave has been planned to destroy absolutely anything incriminating.”
“What about Larsen and the dog?”
“Don’t worry about them, Simon. The command complex is at the base of the second hill, so they’re safe there. The wave won’t reach there because it’s well beyond the buffer zones. But if you left anything of value in the lodge, forget it.”
“We had an agreement with Larsen not to leave you there,” Elia said quickly. “I was going to contact you too. I would have warned you! Definitely, do you hear!”
“OK, OK. I believe you.”
I did believe her. After all, neither she nor Vernie were murderers—yet. But they would be soon.
Meanwhile the Yusian “airplanes” had stopped in the midflight. They now resembled flattened spirals drilled into the sky. After a while they regrouped and flew back. It’s worth noting that the “airplanes” had nothing in common with the shuttles they had given us: these were clearly more powerful and adaptable.
“Listen, Phil,” Elia started, “what if they decide to help us? To suppress somehow—”
“Oh, they’ve already made their decision, you can be sure, but they won’t have the opportunity to carry it out. Just watch and listen!” Vernie switched on the speakers with a theatrical flourish and leaned over the keyboard like a musician called back for an encore. We heard popping, rasping, hissing, crackling, and crashing sounds—a cannonade straight from hell. Elia nervously reached out and turned down the sound. Everything that was still standing—devices, real and fake buildings, energy blocks, peripheral generators—now rocked back and forth like a flotilla in a choppy sea. Welded joints cracked like matchsticks—shredding like paper. Huge fissures opened on the ceramic shields of the aggregates. Then came new explosions as the already useless diverter collapsed as well.
This time, however, the Yusians didn’t retreat. Instead, they sped toward the defractor.
“Depth one hundred and sixty,” Reder announced.
And they started to descend.
Vernie met them with fire. The flames erupted from the inside, stuck out their long blue tongues at the sky, doubling and tripling in size as they emerged, multiplying and turning from blue to orange. As the “airplanes” kept coming, I sensed something very strange about them, but I couldn’t figure it out. Maybe something important—or dangerous—for us.
As the flock cut into the flames, circling through them above the defractor, I suddenly realized what it was: their surfaces didn’t reflect the light. Or, to be more precise, they absorbed it, greedily and completely. Yes, they were pitch black, despite the red beams of Shidexa, and remained black even in the center of the orange firestorm. They looked like holes in it, and the cosmic darkness was peeking out of them. Unfortunately, they were not holes. They grouped and merged into a flat construction resembling a roof that abruptly telescoped to a gigantic size and then became flat again, a monstrous bellows expelling—I don’t know what. But whatever it was put out the fire.
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” Vernie broke the long silence. “The annihilation is our queen, and they won’t be able to take her over! Reder?”
“Depth one hundred and eighty. The road is—difficult. I’m moving slowly.”
“My God!” Elia whispered, indicating images on the screen in front of u
s with surprise.
Actually, it wasn’t surprising at all: after the successful “rescue” mission, the airborne formation was dividing. Half stayed to guard the defractor from new disasters, while the other half moved toward the hill, transforming itself back into a flock as it went.
“Ehrlich!” Elia called. “They’re returning to the contact point. Looks like they’ll try to land there.”
“End it!” he yelled.
Vernie accumulated the finishing impulse but didn’t release it. The devices at the control desk went absolutely crazy, updating information at astonishing speed, while the display monitor, of course, offered only gibberish.
“Vernie,” I warned him, squeezing the back of his neck, “I won’t allow more accidents.”
“I know—I know.” He pushed my hand away. “Let me go!”
The Yusians were already circling just above the crest of the hill, but Vernie continued to postpone the final wave. Sweat poured down his forehead again, and he was practically sprawled across the control desk, trying his damnedest to gain more time for Reder. The commands he entered were totally incomprehensible to me; they might as well have been sign language for the deaf. At least I didn’t think any of the systems he was trying to control could still be online after the hellish eruptions he had conjured. I felt the sweat run down my face too, and my nerves were about to snap. But I didn’t react. I waited silently with Elia, who was as white as a corpse and looked like she was about to faint. I instinctively put my hand on her waist to hold her up.
The flock began to descend.
Instantly Vernie activated the final annihilation impulse. The wave surged forward, just under the Yusian “airplanes.” It didn’t touch them, but its incomparable impact spread them around and blew them sky high as if they were ugly black toys. Little toy planes.
The space beneath the wave seemed to shrink, crushed in the white fist of the annihilation. More cameras went dead; even those beyond the range of the impulse were transmitting only painfully sharp black-and-white images. Through their fearfully blinking lenses, we witnessed everything melting like candle wax. Evaporating. The entire defractor complex, that cosmic trap, the most expensive project in human history, was gone. And that hill the others called with hideous irony “the point of contact,” surrounded by something that was a field before, was now boiling and bubbling and fizzing, its white crests disappearing into deep black caverns. The cones that had once been five-trunked trees were swept away by the wave, and our lodge, that absurd and ridiculously quaint Eyrenean “home” the Yusians had built for us, evaporated as well.