"All right," she said. "By my count, we've got about sixty percent in favor of continuing, twenty percent who think we should stop, and twenty percent who just don't know. Out there, where people don't have as informed an access to the facts, TV polls report thirty percent think we should stop, but I don't think that should prevent us from doing the right thing."
Dorine took a breath and looked closely at faces of the people she could normally count on for unequivocal support. On two of the five faces she saw traces of doubt. "Of the people in this room, only a couple have had the bravery and the unselfishness to be willing to serve as police officers. I can't imagine a lot of things scarier than walking into a dark warehouse where there's some reason to believe the shadows hold danger, danger that could take your life in the next five minutes. For a short time, we've all suddenly been called on to show that courage, and I'll be the first to admit I'm scared. I'm scared bad. But we've got to do this. We can't just turn our backs and let someone else do it. There is no one else. If we can all be brave for a short time, maybe we'll find out there's still time for us to make a difference, maybe not. Maybe we'll find out the Earth has already been destroyed, but at least we'll know we tried to help them. And if we're too late, we can bide our time and wait for a better opportunity to do something about our situation. No matter what, I promise you no one is going to do anything that will put us at risk without a damn good reason."
#
Lucky Stiles felt hot in the cool apartment, his body slippery with sweat. This was the part he hated the most.
Seeing the news story after the fact, watching the horrified expressions on the faces of the people who had been close but not too close was the best. He folded a section of paper into place with fingertips covered by latex gloves. He didn't bother with any safety equipment like goggles, though. If he made a mistake, he'd be beyond the reach of cosmetic surgery. Maybe the boys in white coats would be able to scrape some of his cells off the refrigerator door and clone him, but Lucky wouldn't be around to lie down personally on some operating table.
He was glad his upstairs neighbors had been out of town when Manhattan moved. Ever since then, he had no longer heard the bass throbbing through the ceiling, and right now he was especially glad not to have the irritation. Lucky's fingers trembled ever so slightly as he wrapped the last flap of paper into place and slipped the packet carefully into the pre–addressed envelope.
He took a deep breath. At the sink he sprinkled water on the flap glue and sealed the envelope shut. A drop of sweat fell off his forehead.
He could sure use a beer right now. This certainly qualified as a special occasion. In the refrigerator were his two last cans of Coors, bought by a buddy on a recent vacation. Lucky was convinced that the beer canned in Colorado tasted better than the stuff in the local stores. When Lucky finished the can, he went down to the street and dropped the envelope in a nearby mailbox. The envelope looked funny without a stamp, but the mayor herself had announced that mail without stamps would be delivered.
That served her right. What happened next would be her own fault.
#
Matt was relieved to see no sight of a threat on the other side of the door.
Inside, above eye level, Matt could see straight through the wall on the far side of the cone. They followed the cable into the interior, down the internal stairs, which curved in a corkscrew arc. Above them, virtually the entire cap of the cone was transparent, including the floor they had first stood on.
As soon as they passed the floor they'd been on, he could see an even greater distance down into the cone than they'd been able to see before. The other stairways and the one they were on wound downward in long graceful spirals that eventually stopped at another circular floor perhaps a hundred meters below. At two or three points on each stairway were boxes the size of a small room suspended in the air, as though glued to the side of the stairway.
The group descended, following the cable, until they reached a room containing a small pedestal supporting a black cube and a black cone, both about as tall as a coffee cup. On one side of the cone was a moving image, the same image they had received in Manhattan.
Bobby Joe picked up the cone displaying the picture. As he twisted the cone, Matt realized the back of the cone was also displaying an image. Bobby Joe rotated the cone until the other image was clearly visible. "Well, looky looky."
The picture was the video Julie had put together, showing Manhattan's experience.
"So they are receiving us," Matt said. "And that doesn't just mean that our signal is getting through; it means they wanted to be able to receive. So where are they? And why haven't they replied?"
No one had an answer.
They descended, exploring the small rooms, and ten minutes later they found a room that was occupied. In a clear, coffin–shaped box lay an alien body that looked like the ones in the transmission. The body was humanoid, a Cyclops. The single eyelid was closed. The alien's skin was brown and leathery, with the worst case of varicose veins Matt had ever seen. Thin black lips surrounded a small mouth, and pig–like snout showed one nostril. Flat against its chest was something that looked like a hastily performed skin graft with tendrils reaching into the larger creature's chest. No one had the slightest idea whether it was a pet, a symbiont, medical implant, or something else entirely.
#
Stuart Lund surveyed his congregation in silence. He was ambivalent about the latest news. On the one hand, the idea that the people who had ventured outside the dome could bring down God's wrath terrified him. On the other hand, since the latest news of the trek was made public, new arrivals had been accumulating faster than Stuart's helpers could count. Obviously the dome contained a large number of people who were uncomfortable with the idea of sending out people to damage the structure holding Manhattan and those other cities.
Stuart knew that the team had absolutely no possibility of success, but the sooner he could organize something that would stop the effort, the lower the risk of retaliation. Flooding the Battery Tunnel had been a good idea, but the police had been able to drain it too quickly. There had to be something else they could do. Something that would stop the craziness outside and bring everyone back inside.
The moment of silence had stretched long enough, so Stuart opened his eyes and said, "Please be seated."
The congregation filled the warehouse floor. People way in the back were too far away for Stuart to make out distinct faces, but Stuart knew his words reached that far. Congregation members had collected an adequate supply of public address system components, and wires ran in six directions from the pulpit. The only concession to having mixed and matched several PA systems was that no one had found a cable that let one microphone drive an array of amplifiers, so Stuart spoke into a collection of microphones that made him feel he was giving a press conference for the entire known world.
A wave ran through the congregation from front to back as almost two thousand people settled into their chairs, the ones in front moving first, and row after row following. For just an instant, Stuart saw an image of water parting before him.
"I'd like to welcome anyone new to us this morning," Stuart said when the rustling quieted down. "I don't think it's news to anyone here that we are in the middle of the greatest test we've ever faced. God is undoubtedly watching us closely, measuring, judging, testing. And I think we need to make sure we get a good report card."
Within fifteen minutes, Stuart had his followers hoarse from screaming.
Chapter 10
On the Loose
Matt backed away from the unmoving alien and rapped his knuckles on the wall.
The alien didn't react. The single gray eyelid remained closed. The other three came closer until they surrounded the body.
Matt slowly reached out and prodded one arm, then touched a hand. "I don't know about heavy sleepers, but I'm remembering the 'sun' that hardly moves. Maybe their days and nights are extremely long, like weeks or months for us.
Maybe this is the middle of the night, and maybe during the night they hibernate."
Abby looked at Matt. "That makes a whole lot of sense. They could have started their transmitter a long time ago. If we had responded during the 'day' they would have replied. But now they'll sleep until 'morning.'"
Matt touched the alien's wrist. "I can't feel a pulse, but that doesn't tell me anything, I guess." He put a hand on the alien's neck. After a moment he said, "I can feel something. It's more like a slow vibration than a heartbeat, but I think this—person—is alive."
Abby reached forward and put her hand on the alien's neck, also. "I think you're right. I can feel it, too." Abby put a hand on the coffin–like enclosure. "And I can't feel anything here, so I don't think it's vibration from somewhere else."
Matt said, "Let's get out of here. I think we've learned enough here for now, and besides, we've got more pressing business. The borer should be getting closer to the outside wall."
They walked back through the valley between cones, and Matt suddenly felt envious of people who could sleep a long time. He looked back at the "sun." "It's been about four hours since we were here. How far do you think the 'sun' has moved?"
Bobby Joe moved a couple of steps sideways, then tapped a few buttons on his watch. "This is just a really crude estimate, because I didn't get any good reference before, but it looks to me as if it's only moved two or three degrees. If that's true. that would make their night" —he pushed some more keys— "somewhere between twenty and thirty of our days."
"No wonder we didn't get a reply yet," Abby said.
Back in the tunnel, Matt called Manhattan base with his RF walkie–talkie and told them why their return transmission hadn't been acknowledged.
Matt switched channels. "Rudy, this is Matt."
"Go ahead," said Rudy's voice a moment later.
"We're out and we're safe. We should be able to catch up with you in an hour or so."
"No need to hurry. The borer just broke down."
#
Abby easily kept up with Matt as their long, slow leaning–forward strides carried them through the tunnel just ahead of Julie and Bobby Joe. Besides Abby's talent for running, being several centimeters shorter than Matt helped her get slightly longer strides without coming too close to the tunnel ceiling. Her hardhat light bounced back and forth with the motion of her body.
She was still breathing comfortably ten minutes later when they caught up with Rudy and Richard. They slowed to a halt and for a moment the only sounds were a mechanical tap tap tap from ahead and Bobby Joe's gasping for air from somewhere behind. For being a basically healthy person, Bobby Joe was in the worst shape of anyone Abby knew.
Rudy lay on his back, his hands busy twisting something on the end of a socket wrench. Richard sat on the cart. Abby nodded to him and he nodded back.
"What's up?" Matt asked.
"What's down is more like it," Rudy said. "The tread on the right side vibrates enough when it moves that it wore through a bracket supporting some control lines. I think I caught it before it did much damage. I should be ready to give it another try in ten or fifteen minutes."
"Great. You need anything?"
"I'm fine. Maybe you should put in another ventilation hole and take a peek. According to the inertial navigation unit, we're getting pretty close."
"Will do."
As Matt moved back to do that, Julie came forward, followed by Bobby Joe. Bobby Joe's breath still came in audible drags.
"How're you doing?" Julie said.
"Good," Rudy said. "I think we're almost back in business. How was the tour?"
"Stranger than Macy's in late December. But interesting. Fascinating. Apparently everyone's asleep." Julie started to describe what they'd seen.
Abby started back toward Matt and moved past Bobby Joe, who was still panting. She said, "This trip is probably the best thing that could have happened to you. I think it's good for you to get out and get some exercise."
Abby reached Matt as he started drilling a hole in the tunnel roof. Minutes later she was looking through the periscope. They were indeed near the edge of the huge enclosure that housed all the domes. The enclosure wall seemed no farther away than a few hundred meters. The vertical line where two wall surfaces met now resolved into two parallel lines.
"What do you think those lines in the corner are?" she asked.
Matt took another look. "Maybe the sides of an elevator shaft."
"One that would stop on this level?"
"No idea. It probably wouldn't be a good idea for us to try it even if it did stop here. I can imagine some warning bell ringing on the bridge if we did."
"So you're thinking we'll cut through the wall?"
"That's the first thing to try. I expect the wall to be strong, but I don't know that it needs to be any stronger than the one we already came through."
"And if we can't get through?" Abby said.
"Then we'll try the next thing and the next thing and the next thing."
"You sound like nothing can stop us. Why are you so optimistic?"
Matt took his gaze away from the periscope and looked at Abby. His hardhat light was angled high enough up that his eyes were visible. "I haven't run nearly as much as you have, or run with your class of athlete, but I'd be willing to bet that back in your racing days, once in a while you found yourself halfway through a race, and you felt like dying. You felt that at any second you'd pass out, or you'd have to stop and throw up. Ever feel like that?"
"Yes, a few times."
"But you kept going, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"And, for those races, what were the smallest stakes?"
Abby thought back. "I guess the most trivial was the time I was running against three of the fastest boys in high school. I wasn't actually competing with them in the strict sense, because they separated boys and girls for actual competition. But one of the boys had teased me about being slow."
"So you felt like dying but you kept running, whether you won or lost, and the only thing you stood to lose was your pride. Is that an accurate description?"
"Actually I did win," Abby said with satisfaction.
Matt smiled. "I think you also answered your own question. If you did that much for ego, how hard would you fight when the stakes were survival—and certain death for the entire world?"
Abby was silent for several seconds and then she smiled. "You're saying the people who brought us here picked on the wrong folks?"
"Yeah, I'd say that. What do you think?"
"I think you're right. If I weren't so angry, I'd almost feel sorry for them."
"Now you're talking." Matt pulled out the periscope and inserted an air hose and pump.
Abby hesitated. "But we aren't really invincible."
"That's a fact. But we're not going to give up easily."
"You know," Abby said, "your wife is a very lucky woman."
"I don't know about that," Matt said, but the words were muffled because Abby suddenly turned and started walking back toward the others.
How could she be so stupid to say something like that? Matt's wife was probably already dead, dead with everyone else on Earth, and Abby had to go and say she was lucky. Her brain was mush. And then she realized she had just walked away from Matt while they'd been in the middle of a conversation. What excuse could she offer? She could think of nothing that wouldn't make her sound brainless. And she couldn't just go back right now, because she had no idea what she should say. She hadn't felt this flustered in a long time. She felt like a dumb teenager all over again as a flush warmed her face.
Abby moved past the trailer and found Julie, Bobby Joe, and Richard still watching Rudy. For an instant she expected they would all turn and stare at her for acting so stupid with Matt, but of course they didn't. They hadn't been anywhere close.
"I think that's got it," Rudy said. He collected several tools, then deposited them in the trailer.
At about the same time, Matt got ba
ck.
"I think we're back in business," Rudy said before anyone else said a word. "I'm going to give it a try in a couple of minutes."
"Good," Matt said. "The ventilator seems to be working fine." As he moved past Abby to get closer to Rudy, his hardhat light was directed at the back end of the borer, and Abby's body was in darkness. With a gesture guaranteed to be invisible to the others, Matt gently squeezed her shoulder.
Abby didn't know what the touch meant, whether it was, "That's okay; we all say stupid things," or, "I understand; I'm nervous, too," or what, but she realized almost immediately that she felt better. Much better. Her shoulder tingled.
At the same time, Matt continued talking. "It looks like we're only a few hundred meters away from the wall, so the borer doesn't have to work for very long."
"Good," Rudy said. "That's consistent with the readings." He picked up the borer control and punched a couple of buttons, saying, "Here goes."
The borer moved forward just enough to notice, then stopped. Seconds later, it moved forward slightly. After a minute of watching it, Rudy said, "I think it's operational again."
Everyone but Richard said a word or two of congratulations and thanks.
#
When the inertial navigation unit told Matt they were within twenty meters of the wall, he warned Rudy to slow down the borer.
"Okay," Rudy said. "You still want to curve so we wind up running parallel to the wall for the last few meters?"
"Go for it."
From behind him in the tunnel, Matt heard Bobby Joe say something about parallel parking. "Hey, Bobby Joe. Why don't you do something useful. When we go through this wall, we could be going into a different atmosphere and pressure. Go back about fifty meters and put in another air barrier."
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