The Far Side

by Wylie, Gina Marie

  She pushed the off button on the cell phone.

  Next were two men, looking tired and not terribly fresh. “Miss Boyle, Major Sandusky, this is James Early, the owner of this house and a city alderman, and William Williams, who lives across the street from the school where he is the principal. Gentlemen, Miss Kris Boyle.”

  Early looked at Kris with distaste. “Who?”

  “I’m the person you need to talk to just now, Mr. Early. It is my considered opinion that more people are likely to be killed at this point than could possibly be rescued or recovered. I am loath to risk that. Explain to me why I should go against my better judgment.”

  “Who is in charge here?” the man demanded.

  “I am,” Kurt told him. “If it was up to me, I’d have told the Chicago police department to pull the plug on this last night. Kris, sir, is one of three people that we know of who has been stranded on the Far Side. There is no better advocate for those young men or for those police officers that exists. As I said, if it was up to me, I’d have already pulled the plug, and I wouldn’t have bothered to ask you for your opinion on the time of day.”

  “He’s my son! One of the others is Bill’s son! There are three brave policemen who went after them!”

  Kris shrugged. “How many people are you willing to see die to rescue them? A few minutes ago we came within a few seconds of losing nine more, including myself.

  “Sir, your son did the same thing my friend Andie Schultz did. She built a door to the Far Side. Like my friend Andie -- and then me too -- we were curious about what was on the other side. Your son was curious about what was there, and was more careful than Andie was -- she just stuck her head through. But after that, sir, he had bad luck. In spite of the bravery of his friends and the Chicago police, he was taken. Now they have launched what was almost certainly an attack on us here.

  “I have no love lost for the President and his draconian rules. Neither does Andie. But both of us realized our mistake and agreed in a heartbeat to whatever rules scientists wanted to impose. We just renegotiated those rules, sir, and while I’m disappointed in the result, the fact is that the President’s rules are reasonable, and I have every intention of obeying them.

  “But, sir, this door to the Far Side has been open a rather long time, with no sign of any attempt at communication, either from your sons, from the three police officers or from those who took them. I can envision a scenario for what has happened that has an innocuous reason, but that is one of thousands of reasons -- the rest of which aren’t benign.”

  She saw Chief Murphy nod. And she bobbed her head. “Sir, the fire department is getting additional detectors to make sure that they aren’t sending nerve gas through the door. They did send carbon monoxide, which would have killed us all if we hadn’t fled in a hurry.

  “I’m willing to listen to reasonable counter arguments, but, sir, they have to be reasonable.”

  “You’ve already made up your mind.”

  “Of course, sir. I’m sure you’ve faced issues as an alderman where you first thought one thing, and then learned more and then changed your mind. That’s what I’m willing to do here, sir.”

  “Are you sure they’re hostile?”

  Kris sighed. “No, I’m not entirely sure. If I was sure, I’d have already destroyed the fusor and cement trucks would be pulling up to fill your basement with concrete. We are going to make one more attempt, sir, to see what’s on the other side.

  “Sir, one more hostile response, one more response that we can’t be sure isn’t hostile, and we are going to have to take that as their final answer.”

  “And you condemn five men to death!”

  “Sir, the odds are 99.99% that they are already dead. Do you understand, sir, that we’re waiting on detectors that might show a chemical warfare attack on Chicago? Would you like to be the proximate cause for that attack?”

  “Don’t be absurd! I just want my son rescued.”

  “And we’re going about it in the safest, most effective method we know,” Kris said patiently. “One last time, sir. Do you have an argument or reasons why we should further risk our lives for your son?”

  He turned and walked away.

  Kurt put his hand on Kris’ shoulder. “You did your best, Kris.”

  She nodded, but it didn’t keep her from feeling like shit. She turned to Chief Murphy. “How long until the detectors are here?”

  “The Air Force has intervened. They are bringing more equipment from a base near St. Louis, so it’ll be a few more minutes. They say wait for them. There were pretty emphatic about waiting.”

  Kris nodded. She went over to the robot operator. “You can run your little friend from the SWAT van, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” he told her. “I didn’t bother -- you turned off the door.”

  “I want to see what things look like down there now,” she told him. “There were a few seconds from the time I decided to shut if off until it went dark. We weren’t paying much attention, just then.”

  The robot operator blushed. “No, I was chugging it for the door.”

  He went on to explain. “A couple of years ago, my partner and I were working a bomb case and my partner was next to the robot, looking over a suspected bomb. One second he said, ‘Wait a second, I see a little smoke.’” The operator looked into the distance, a sad expression on his face. “A heartbeat later there was an expanding cloud of V8 juice that had once been my partner. I vowed then and there that when I didn’t know what was going on, I was going to head for the hills, and come back, if I had to, later, to figure out what was up.”

  Kris patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  He looked at her. “Yeah, I guess you are. Been there and done that, haven’t you?”

  Kris remembered the hillside where she and Chaba had hunkered down, trying to keep safe. And what they’d had to do to stay safe. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight.

  They walked over to the SWAT van with the trailer and he fired up the console. The same warning came on, about carbon monoxide. The fire chief had seen them and was standing over the operator’s other shoulder. “Carbon monoxide does like to hide in the low spots,” he opined.

  “What’s this?” the operator said. For a second the camera twisted rapidly, too fast for Kris to follow. Then it was aimed at the floor just in front of the robot. It was color picture, and there was a thin layer of white powder on the floor. “I don’t remember a white powder,” the man said dubiously.

  “Turn right forty degrees, up a hundred and twenty degrees. That’s where the boron was. It is a white powder, maybe the reservoir broke,” Kris suggested.

  The operator turned to look at her. “Miss Boyle, I read the reports of the survivor’s interrogation. He said they used powdered boron metal. That’s black or dark brown.”

  Kris pursed her lips. What was with Andie? She could have saved a lot of trouble if she done that as well! What was with the powdered borax? Even as she thought it, she knew the answer. Andie took almost as much delight in odd ways to get places than she got from where she reached. Going to a store and buying a box of Twenty Mule Team Borax would appeal to her, where ordering the metal from a supplier wouldn’t.

  The fire chief cleared his throat. “We need to move further back. Forget going back in.”

  “Why?” Kris asked.

  “Because I know what the military will do now. It’s time to find a deep hole and pull it in over us.”

  Kris raised an eyebrow. The fire chief went outside and pulled the deputy mayor and deputy police chief together. The deputy mayor went pale, while the policeman simply got on his radio and started issuing orders.

  Kurt joined her. “What’s up?”

  “We linked up to the robot and there was a white powder all over everything that wasn’t there before. We’ve been told to fall back.”

  Kurt blinked, and then whispered the word, “MOAB!”

  “Utah?” Kris asked, not sure what had upse
t the other.

  “The Mother of All Bombs. MOAB. Let’s get out of here! Far, far away!”

  It seemed as if his action was infectious. Engines started up and people were jumping into vehicles. Janice Kingsolver appeared at Kris’ elbow.

  “What’s up?”

  “I came here with the intention of showing up the President. I’m afraid that he’s the one showing me up. If I thought for an instant that he was orchestrating this, I’d join my father and make sure his reign was over.”

  “He’s elected; elected officials don’t reign.”

  “He’s caused enough rain on friends of mine. One of whom is dead, another died trying to rescue me, whereas if they’d left the fusor running, we could have spent a month in quarantine and the whole human race would be better off for it. Right now, though, we’re running for our lives.”

  “What?”

  “The question is what will get us first? Alien germs or a great huge bomb? Me, I’ll watch from at least twice the safe distance.”

  Ten minutes later they were standing on a street corner, watching the last few emergency service personnel hurry past in their vehicles. Kris wasn’t sure what they were being told, but they looked wide-eyed with panic.

  A helicopter swooped into the command post and two military officers exited. One of them was an Air Force officer; the other was wearing Army green. At least now Kris knew which was which.

  “Well, Jerry,” Kurt said when he saw who was in front. “Long time no see!”

  “Major! Good to see you! What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Learning. You couldn’t do better, the next time you have a little spare time, than to come and play on our team.”

  “I’m told I have to evaluate the situation. Who is Kris Boyle, and why should I care what she thinks?”

  “For the same reason I care -- she knows her stuff. Kris Boyle, this is Jerry Landis, once one of my tank commanders on the Ridge in Iraq. Now he outranks me.”

  Lt. Colonel Landis brushed imaginary dust specks from his silver leaf. “You bet! What have we got here?”

  Kris led him to the SWAT van, which now had all of the brass present, looking at pretty much the same scene of white dust that Kris had earlier. The colonel looked at it, and then turned to the city officials. “Who here is in charge of the perimeter?”

  Captain Wolford indicated that he was.

  “And how far out is the perimeter?” the colonel asked.

  “Two hours ago we set it at two miles. There is verifiably no one within a mile. We’re at ninety-nine percent certainty there are none within two miles.”

  “Get on the radio. You have two minutes to alert everyone to get on the deck. Put it out city wide. Tell people not to panic.”

  “Why would they panic?” Captain Wolford asked.

  “MOAB,” Kurt said. “The Mother of All Bombs. A fuel-air weapon.”

  Instantly, everyone had cell phones to their ears.

  Kris watched for a second, and then looked at Kurt. “Clearly we are not as familiar with emergency protocols as we should be to perform our intended function.”

  “It would seem so, Kris.”

  Kris saw that Ezra had walked a ways away and was being sick into a ditch. That scared her, but she went to him anyway. “Ezra?”

  “I’ve been there and done this, Kris. Like I said, I couldn’t do it again. Honestly, if I thought we were going up against ten thousand screaming aliens, waving pitchforks in their tentacles, demanding the death of Professor Frankenstein, I’d be your guy. But not for this, Kris. Not for this. I just can’t!”

  Lt. Colonel Landis spoke firmly. “Now! Get down now! Don’t get back up until I tell you to! Eat dirt!”

  Kris watched Ezra sprawl in the dirt. She turned and saw Pete Sharp. “I’m getting down,” she said in mock concern. She got down, and when she lifted her head to grin at him, Pete put a big hand in the middle of her back and pressed down.

  There was no warning. In the distance, towards the house, there was a flash. Then there was a white, misty wall rushing towards them. Then it was like a giant landed on her back, squeezing her breath out of her body. There was a second flash in the distance and another wall of white mistiness came at them. This one was, if anything, worse.

  “One more,” the lieutenant colonel warned. “Wait for it! Suck it up! Hang tight!”

  The third flash was a fraction brighter than the first two; it seemed to be as high and the shock wave wasn’t as severe.

  Ezra looked at the starchy army lieutenant colonel, now huddled on the ground like the rest of them. “At two miles, how many rads?” Ezra asked.

  The man met Kurt’s eyes. “Those were fuel-air bombs. No rads.”

  Ezra snorted.

  Kris sagged to the ground, even more limp than a moment before. That last -- that had been a nuke. A nuclear bomb! She stripped away her feelings on the subject and tried to contemplate the situation from as detached a viewpoint as she could. They’d never know now what the white powder was. It could have been lethal, it could have been innocuous. But they were never going to know.

  She stood up, and Kurt rose as well. “We had our asses handed to us,” she told him.

  “Yes. But I don’t think there was anything we could have done about it.”

  “We could have given up earlier. We should have followed our instincts.”

  Kurt nodded. “Yeah. Clearly, we’ve learned a lot. It’s back to the drawing board. Rescues aren’t going to be the glorious cavalry riding to the help of the beleaguered settlers. Sometimes, maybe -- but not all of the time.”

  “I wish I believed that this will slow down some of the experimenters,” Kris told him. “I don’t think it will, not at all.”

  He shrugged and then laughed. “As near as I can tell, we’re going to need a jumbo jet when we deploy. Robots, armor, sensors -- we need them to hand -- we can’t wait on the locals to supply them, even if they have them.”

  Kris forced herself to focus on what he’d just said and what she’d just realized. She saw his eyes were on her. There were little tests and big tests, she realized, when it came to command.

  * * *

  General Briggs, his wife, Helen Boyle, Kurt, Ezra, and Captain Stone sat at the conference table as Kris, standing in front of a projector showing the high points of what they’d learned. Kris stopped talking and was now looking back at those who’d listened.

  General Briggs sat back, his eyes curious and intent, silent for a few moments. “Major Sandusky asked you to put together this briefing, Kris. Why do you think he did that?”

  Kris smiled briefly. “Everything is a test. In this case, for all of us.”

  “Major, do you have a comment?” the general asked Kurt.

  “Kris isn’t doing justice to herself. We both learned a lot. I really wish we could have gotten a camera through that door, but there was no way to justify the risk. As for the lessons learned -- those were dished out fairly evenly all the way around.”

  “You’re certain as to the nature of the third weapon?” the general inquired.

  “Those weapons produce a short pulse of very hard radiation. There is almost no fallout, minimal blast and flash damage. The first two MOABs covered it all up. Ezra, you know more about that sort of thing than I do.”

  Ezra Lawson shrugged. “I know almost nothing about the mechanics. There were probably at least three B-2 bombers way, way up high, with laser designators on the target. The weapons have both inertial as well as laser tracking. As soon as the first weapon detonated, the follow-on weapons would have switched to inertial.” He grimaced. “Targets I spotted for typically didn’t require a second strike, much less a third. And nothing like that last weapon, ever.”

  “Someone was awfully quick on the trigger,” Helen Boyle said. “My husband feels that the decision was partly based on the President’s antipathy for all things Schulz.”

  General Briggs grimaced. “It would seem likely that they are going to impose even more
stringent rules on fusor use, but we have, at least so far, complied with all of the rules that we know about. I’ll talk to the architects and see what they have to say about containing explosions. We were more interested in being airtight, not blast protection.”

  Kris nodded. “Worse, Chicago seems to have made the President’s case for him. To be honest, what he did was what I was thinking would be a good idea. I’m not sure what we’d have actually done, but I was grateful that they were ready with something so quick.”

  “There is, however,” Kurt interjected, “a political factor that General Briggs and I talked over with Oliver Boyle. It may well be that the President’s actions were fully justified. But the fact remains that the President of the United States of America ordered the detonation of a nuclear weapon over an American city as part of a series of detonations that guaranteed that the five missing will never return and killed four others and injured two dozen more.

  “We’d probably have the people in the streets with pitchforks hunting for us right now,” he concluded, “if the President had blamed it on Andie and Kris. That he didn’t seems to indicate that he’s waiting until Congress reconstitutes itself and he can get a vice president confirmed. He’ll make a side deal with the new veep like Ford made with Nixon for a blanket pardon, and then he’ll resign.

  “But the minute it is generally known that he nuked an American city, no matter why, no matter how safe it was and all of that, his presidency will be over.”

  He looked around the table. “Far Side doors weren’t popular before and they just got a lot more unpopular, no matter how you cut it. General, I hope you have a lot of lawyers, because as much as Northfield loves Norwich, the thought of them dropping bombs up there on the hill is not going to win us any friends.”

  “We’re working on that,” the general replied. He grinned wryly. “I’ve made a half-specious request that Norwich be allowed to lease Thunder Mountain outside Colorado Springs.”

  There were laughs around the table.

  “But, before we all despair, we need to understand among ourselves what risks we are involved with. We’ve seen hot places and wet places, profound emptiness and solid rock. We’ve met people like us who are friendly and people like us who aren’t. Those are the Far Side doors that we know about. Now we’ve found a place where it is likely that whatever was on the other side was decidedly hostile.