Manhattan Transfer

by John E. Stith

  Julie hesitated. She knew a "no" would mean expulsion. "Well, I'm not real happy about it, but if that's the way it's got to be, I'll pass the word."

  "Thank you. I think you'll understand soon enough." Dorine looked tired as she turned and went back to take her seat. Julie wondered what was going on.

  A minute later Dorine rapped her gavel on the table top. In seconds the room was quiet. Dorine and Matt and Abby and another eight people sat at the rectangular table, and several front rows of seats were filled to capacity with senior members of city government.

  Dorine looked out at the audience and said, "This emergency meeting is now in session. We have some big decisions to make tonight, and some of what you're going to hear is no doubt going to be disturbing. I ask you to remain as quiet as possible unless you have the floor.

  "The exploratory team has encountered new information about our situation. If the information is to be believed, we may have no choice but to act on it. We're here tonight to evaluate this information, and then to make decisions. This information will be presented by Matt Sheehan, Colonel, U.S. Army. I've reviewed his military record and suffice it to say that he has a reputation for honesty and effective action. Colonel Sheehan."

  Matt scanned faces in the crowd briefly. Julie knew her own team was recording, even though they didn't have permission to transmit yet.

  Matt said, "What I'm going to tell you is going to be difficult to accept at first. I'm going to give you the bottom line in just a minute, and then I'm going to backtrack and show you the evidence we have to back this up. You'll have a chance to ask questions when I've finished. In the meantime, I ask you to try as hard as possible to remain quiet so I can finish. Time is critical.

  "We have very strong evidence about the aliens who brought Manhattan here. We think their actions fit a pattern. The real bottom line is that shortly after they snatch a city, they exterminate the population remaining on the planet. Therefore, the entire population of Earth is either already beyond help, or they need our help very much right now. I have recommended to the mayor that we embark immediately on a mission to find a way to disable this ship to the extent that it cannot be used to destroy what remains of the human race."

  Julie sagged against the wall behind her and shivered. Her ears rang in the stunned silence.

  The silence lasted only a couple of seconds before the yelling started. Dorine rapped her gavel on the table several times, and the noise abated.

  Matt continued. "The evidence for the conclusions I just mentioned comes from two sources. One is subjective, and requires us to take the word of another captive alien race. The other is more objective, although still open to interpretation, and comes from the transmission we received from a different captive city."

  Matt first explained about Abby's communications with the telepathic, tree–dwelling race, who claimed to hear the dying screams of the rest of their race. Then he turned on a video unit connected to a large wall screen behind the table. He played the recording Julie had seen earlier, but this time when it reached the section where the city was about to disappear into the ship and the lightning showed over the horizon, Julie knew that couldn't just be lightning from some enormous storm.

  Now the room was nearly silent, except for the sounds of two or three people sobbing.

  "There you have the evidence for what I've told you tonight. In addition to that we have evidence in this same recording that thousands of people died as their city was cut loose. And added to that, we know that when Manhattan was captured, many people died in the process. I believe this undeniable disregard for life is fully consistent with the belief that whoever was left on the planet would not live much longer anyway."

  Julie had felt horror as Matt talked. Now she felt the beginnings of anger, anger that their captors had come so far to so callously kill so many people they'd never even had contact with.

  "So, what are we going to do about this?" Matt asked. "That has to be the next question. And my answer is this: as soon as possible, I, or anyone you appoint, will take a team and leave Manhattan. We will be equipped with the most powerful explosives and weapons we can find. Our goal will be to, as fast as possible, break out of the area these cities are imprisoned in, locate the propulsion system, and damage it to the extent that this ship cannot be used to destroy the Earth."

  Dorine had to use her gavel again to quiet the sudden outbursts.

  "Why the propulsion system? Why not power or something else?" asked Dorine.

  "For one thing we figure the propulsion system will be easier to identify than other subsystems. If we keep the ship from being able to move, we're hoping that would buy us enough time to be more selective in what we damage. If, for instance, we tried to destroy the power plant, whatever and wherever that is, we might harm ourselves, too."

  Another flurry of questions made hearing impossible.

  When calm was restored, Matt said, "That's all I had to say. How about if we deal with questions, but one at a time?"

  Dorine controlled the question process. A man in the back said, "What if we're too late? What if—if the Earth has already been destroyed?"

  Matt said, "Then all we can do is prevent this ship from harming other planets, other civilizations."

  A woman asked, "But what if you accidentally destroy the ship, or if you destroy the life–support systems that Manhattan is dependent upon now?"

  Matt hesitated. "Very good question. For Manhattan that's the worst–case scenario, but it's one that we have to acknowledge. When it comes right down to it, for every single person in Manhattan there are, what, two to three thousand people on Earth. If you had to choose between a couple of million people here in Manhattan, and five or six billion people and the Earth itself, which would you choose?"

  It took Dorine almost a minute to get the group under control again.

  "But maybe we're guessing wrong," a man said. "Maybe they only do that to some of the planets."

  Matt said, "Perhaps. But we have evidence for a sample of two, and so far the evidence suggests 100 percent."

  "Isn't it possible that our captors will find the team before it does any damage and decide to destroy Manhattan because we're dangerous?"

  "Yes," Matt said.

  "What do you think the odds of success are?" a woman asked.

  "I honestly don't know," Matt said. "I think I know what the odds are for Earth if we do nothing."

  "What makes you think there isn't another ship that actually does the damage? Maybe this is just one ship in a small fleet."

  "If this isn't the only ship, then perhaps there's no hope. If it is the only ship, and it certainly seems large enough to be the only one, then we can only hope that doing significant damage here will delay their plans and give us more opportunity to stop the slaughter."

  "How big a team should we send?" asked a woman in the back.

  That question brought the biggest argument. Matt recommended one small team, partly to minimize the risk of being detected, partly because they had only one borer and the oxygen supply coming into the tunnel was limited. People on opposite poles of the argument wanted either several large teams sent, or no one sent. Dorine sided with Matt, partly because of trust in his judgment, partly because of the obvious limitations. As a further compromise, another two borers would be built, and a large armed troop would be readied. A member of the press would accompany the team, to let people on both extremes of the argument get unbiased reports on what was happening.

  As the heat finally began to diminish, a man in the front row asked, "Mayor, do you really think we should do this?"

  Dorine took her time as a few tremors in the crowd died down. "I think, that unless someone comes up with a brilliant idea in the next ten minutes, yes, we should. We should equip this team with what they need. And then, in whatever manner is appropriate for our various religions, we all should pray."

  Chapter 9

  Mechanical Failure

  On the way back out to Rudy and Bobby
Joe and the borer, Abby rode on the back of a new cart. This one made her nervous, because it was completely filled with plastic explosives, timers, detonators, and the other paraphernalia gathered overnight by a new member of the team.

  Richard Welkon, an ex–army demolitions expert, sat beside her. The man made Abby almost as nervous as the explosives did, mostly because he was so quiet. Abby hadn't yet seen him joke or smile, not that now was the best time for joking and smiling, but an occasional release of the nervous tension she felt was probably a good thing. Richard seemed like a bomb himself, silently ticking.

  A small trailer behind the cart carried a supply of weapons, ammunition, and explosives. Abby hadn't seen that big a cache since a newscast had documented the fall of a teen gang in the upper west side. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if some of the boxes of explosives had orange spray–painted logos saying, "Property of the Tail Gunners."

  Matt drove the cart through the tunnel, covering ground almost as fast as he and Abby had moved when they were running the opposite direction. Beside Matt sat Julie Kravine, her minivid apparently active even though one kilometer of tunnel was much like another. Julie had argued successfully that if they were possibly going to destroy a significant amount of technology currently unknown to the human race, the least they could do was save images of it. In addition to that, having six on the team instead of four allowed a greater chance that some of the team could sleep while the others worked, without getting the team so large that its size caused oxygen–supply problems. The networks had hastily proposed a list of journalist candidates, and Matt had picked Julie because she was a known quantity who would require no learning curve.

  They had already passed the area that had caused Abby and Matt so much grief on the last trip. Matt's efforts had indeed stopped the leak, and the goo had flowed enough that they were able to drive over most of it, having to shovel only the few meters nearest the ventilation tube.

  Abby felt herself pushed gently sideways as the cart started a turn, and seconds later they passed a sealed opening in the tunnel wall. She pointed at it as it vanished in the darkness that kept pace with them behind the trailer. "That's the opening to the dead city we explored earlier."

  Richard nodded and said, "Mmm."

  Abby wasn't sure why she had bothered.

  When they curved past the sealed entrance to the tree dwellers' city, Abby didn't say anything.

  They caught up with Rudy and Bobby Joe just as Rudy was directing the borer in an arc that took the tunnel right past another domed city. As long as they were limited by the speed of the borer, Matt wanted to take a quick look at the city. Rudy and Richard continued ahead, and Abby felt measurably better as soon as Richard was out of sight.

  Matt drilled a hole to the surface, but before he put in the ventilator tube, he pushed the periscope up through the hole.

  As Matt took a look through the periscope, Bobby Joe jerked his thumb in the direction of Richard and the cart and said to Abby, "That's a great idea, bringing a robot. Food will last us that much longer."

  Abby smiled, feeling better that she wasn't the only one bothered by Richard's icy demeanor.

  Matt stepped away from the periscope, and said, "Who's next?"

  Julie took a turn. "These guys have sure done a lot of decorating."

  When Abby took a turn she understood what Julie had meant. The bottom two or three meters of the dome were virtually covered with drawings. She saw occasional glimpses of motion through untouched slivers of the dome, but couldn't get any clear view of what was inside.

  Bobby Joe took his turn, then shook his head.

  Matt looked at Abby. "Any guess as to what that's all about?"

  Abby took another look, this time noticing that several of the patterns were replicated. In fact, at least half of the drawings seemed to be duplications. If the drawings were some sort of visual history, she wouldn't expect that much duplication. She pulled back from the eyepiece and shook her head. "I don't really have enough information to make an intelligent guess, but if I had to make a totally wild guess, I'd say these people could be trying to communicate with our captors, or they could be worshiping whoever brought them here."

  #

  As soon as the team was safely on its way, Dorine Underwood held a press conference. She had resolved to make the broadcast as unemotional as possible, in hopes of instilling a little calm in the middle of the new storm of bad news, but she had to pause during her description of what had happened to the race occupying the huge square building. She swallowed hard and went on.

  Despite the risk the team was taking, she felt more comfortable about explaining their new mission, stressing that it was vital that they stop the ship from moving to destroy yet another planet.

  "This was a difficult decision, and I'm asking you to accept it. This is a time for courage, a time for all of us to act as heroes, not a time to crawl into a hole and hope the problem will go away. This action has risks. Inaction has even larger risks."

  Dorine paused for a drink of water.

  "The final item for now is the Battery Tunnel incident. I can understand that our actions outside the dome scare some of us. But we will not tolerate further interference and destruction. There's a chance that we will be the only survivors of the human race. That we are killing each other when we should be focused on survival is contemptible. And it will stop."

  #

  "We cannot stand by and let the forces of darkness march over us!" Stuart Lund called out. His voice felt especially smooth today, and the growing crowd gave him hope.

  Stuart paused for a breath and looked out over his "congregation," which nearly filled the open section of the warehouse. He saw renewed fear and anger on the faces in the crowd, the same fear and anger that he felt. People in authority were always making bad decisions, so in one sense today was like every other day. But it wasn't really. The mayor's decision to send out a team with explosives and weapons was simply too much. Too many lives, too many souls were at risk.

  He resumed his "Make a Difference" speech, exhorting his followers to do anything in their power to reverse the decision, to help make the mayor see the wrongness in her plan. He talked another ten minutes. He had enough material to keep going for another several hours, but he could sense the restlessness in the congregation. The people wanted to do something. They believed, too, and if he kept talking now, he'd be less and less effective. So he stopped. He had little doubt that the tunnel flooding had been the work of his congregation; they'd certainly find fresh ways to hamper the new effort.

  "God will know who among us who stand idle and allow this so–called expedition. Talk to your friends. Take a stand. Make sure they know you feel this is wrong. Make a difference."

  The people cheered and clapped, most of them in obvious agreement. Something had to be done. Stuart felt a little uncomfortable with the lack of decorum, but the immediate feedback was tremendously encouraging.

  As people filed out, a few stayed to ask questions. The next to the last in line was a short but stocky man who introduced himself as Benny Kellermund. The man behind Mr. Kellermund was obviously with him, but he didn't volunteer his name. The silent man looked as if he'd been in a number of fights. Stuart was suddenly nervous that his preaching was somehow cutting into someone else's line of work and he was about to be warned.

  Mr. Kellermund waited until the few people in the congregation were out of hearing, then said, "Reverend, you're exactly right."

  Stuart felt surprise and a quick sense of relief.

  "The mayor's got a hair up, er, the mayor is an idiot. We've got to stop her before this expedition stuff ruins everything we have here. Me and my friend, we're on your side."

  The friend nodded when mentioned, but he still didn't speak.

  Mr. Kellermund glanced around. "Look, can we talk somewhere a bit more private?"

  Stuart took a look around, too. A few of the congregation members lingered near the door. Under different circumstances, t
hese two men would have made him uncomfortable, but now they were on his side, and of the people Stuart had seen today, these two seemed more likely to get results than most.

  "Upstairs," said Stuart. "I have a small office on the second floor."

  The men followed Stuart up the stairs, through a small maze of construction materials, and into a small office that contained a cot and a table and a chair.

  "Is this better, Mr. Kellermund?"

  "Much. But call me Benny." Benny still didn't introduce his companion. "Anyway. We're on your side. In fact, we're responsible for the flooding."

  "No," Stuart said in surprise. He realized that he'd been hoping the flood was an act of God, a pipe that suddenly burst of its own accord, or some other sign that God was clearly on their side.

  "Yes. My friend here is very handy with tools."

  "Well, I'm very grateful." Stuart fell silent, unsure of what to say.

  "Anyway, I think I can do something to stop the team," Benny said. "I think my friend can do something about convincing the mayor to change her mind."

  At another time the man's intense stare and his dark eyes might have made Stuart a little nervous, but the team needed to be stopped, and the mayor had to be convinced, so he didn't feel the need to question the man further. "Thank you," he said finally. "Whatever assistance you can lend, your help will be rewarded by God."

  #

  "I don't care about any reward from God," said Benny Kellermund. "I just don't want to die." He sat on a straight–backed chair in his apartment, a modest place in the Upper West Side.