Here there were none of the finer things he’d known back in Seattle, but who the fuck cared? You can only diddle so many girls in your life, you can drink only so much brew, you can eat only so much food... here he was never going to have to worry a tiny bit about politics, the price of gas; there were no WMDs, unless it was his father-in-law’s morning breath after a night in his cups. Heaven! He didn’t have to rape a girl to get off; here they eyed him and flirted with him, lining up for a chance to get him between their legs. Not at first, girls, he thought greedily. But, soon enough! Ol’ big daddy Robin was man enough for the lot of you!
* * *
Kris saw General Briggs enter the classroom and nod to Captain Harris, her calculus professor. “Captain, my apologies, but I require Cadet Boyle.”
“Yes, sir. It’s not a problem,” her professor responded.
Kris got up, aware that once again everyone was looking at her. It was November now, and she still hadn’t gotten used to the attention. If she’d been a freak before Chicago, now she was a freak a thousand times over. No one doubted in the least that her TV interview had done in six hours what her father hadn’t been able to accomplish in five months. There was a new President these days.
Kris smiled at that. One thing they’d talked about, she and Kurt and Ezra: how once one person starts screwing everyone around him, how easy it is to get screwed right back. The congress had appointed George Mitchell Vice President; the President had planned on resigning, expecting an immediate pardon.
Instead, Mitchell produced the tape of his meeting with the President -- he’d been wearing a wire, with the FBI listening. It turned out that there actually were former members of Congress who weren’t crooks and didn’t like those who were. So now the President was out on bail, having the ignominy of his passport pulled as a flight risk.
There weren’t going to be any more live, unedited interviews of Kristine Boyle on TV, that was for sure! But it had had an impact on her classmates. Most stayed clear of her, not sure what she was up to. All sorts of rumors swirled around, including that she and her father were going to take over the government in a coup.
Kris followed the general out into the hall and down the corridor to the general’s office. In a few moments Kurt arrived, while Ezra had simply trailed along behind Kris, silent and taciturn as usual.
“Well, we have another situation,” General Briggs told them. “This time in Seattle. And, as it seems, another unusual twist.”
“But someone has gone missing?” Kris asked.
“Yes, but evidently it was deliberate this time. He booby-trapped the fusor, intending to blow up anyone who tried to come after him. It’s the police’s opinion that he was intending to kill policemen, his parents, as well as the two young men who were nominally helping him.
“When they started looking into the young man’s history, they found a lot of things at odds with what he’d told his accomplices, making it clear that they were more patsies than accomplices.
“The fusor he told them he was building was almost certainly completed some months ago, and that more than two tons and perhaps as many as four tons of supplies that he purchased have vanished, and the conclusion is that he took it with him.”
“What sort of supplies?” Kris asked.
“Some food, but not a great deal. A lot of seeds and agricultural implements. Several thousand books including a lot of do-it-yourself titles. Firearms and ammunition, but again, not as many as Major Sandusky thought necessary on Arvala. It sounds to me like the young man found a pleasant hole to hide in, one without an extradition treaty back to the US, and pulled it in behind him.
“The Seattle police want him for questioning. He left almost two hundred pounds of high explosives under and inside the fusor. He had set a series of timers, the first of which sent the output of the fusor into the electrical panels of the fusor itself. The problem with that clever scheme is that he fried the rest of the timers as well.
“They found a stick of dynamite, tarted up to look like something else, inside the fusor controls that would have blown the machine to smithereens, along with the bulk of the explosives that were cached under the machine itself.
“The first bomb might have injured anyone in the room, but the second would have leveled the house. That likely would have killed about forty or fifty people, the bulk of them Seattle policemen. They want the young man fetched back.”
Kurt coughed. “General, you do know that that’s illegal under the laws of the United States? It’s called kidnapping. You have to have the local jurisdiction arrest them, and then apply for extradition and all of that. Any time the CIA has grabbed someone there are always legal questions. Mostly people like that can’t be tried, because as soon as a lawyer got the case in court, the arrest would be invalidated.”
General Briggs nodded.
Kris nodded, looking serious. “I don’t have a problem with acting as a consultant for Seattle on how to repair the fusor and open the door again. But going after him through it? Regardless of the legal fine points, I don’t think it would be proper.” She paused, and then went on, “If they can show that someone is in trouble and needs rescue -- that would be a different thing.”
“Let’s talk to them on the phone,” the general told them. “Let this be a lesson to you -- don’t be too eager to agree when you’re in a negotiation.”
They entered the main conference room, and the call was placed. General Briggs handled their end. Paul Higgins, the chief of the police bureau in Seattle, was on the phone for the city.
General Briggs spoke first. “I’ve called for our lawyer, Chief Higgins, but I’ve been reminded that an arrest like what you are requesting isn’t likely to be legal. Perhaps if it was on an uninhabited world, but from the list of equipment that you’ve sent I’d have to say that isn’t likely to be the case.”
The Seattle police chief said something that was unintelligible. “We won’t know if we don’t go look, will we?” he replied when asked to speak up.
For the first time, Kris saw a trace of temper on General Briggs’ face. “Chief Higgins, we would be happy to come and consult on fixing the fusor and discuss with your people what they might expect on the other side, but as for actually apprehending the suspect -- no, that would open us up too wide for liability. We’ve been lucky so far, and I’d hate to push our luck.”
“In what circumstances would you intervene?”
“We’re still coming up with guidelines -- obviously, this is all new. I think we’ll agree to attempt to rescue people not in legal jeopardy back here, beyond using a fusor Far Side door. We will be happy to consult with police and legitimate explorers as to the legalities and conditions that they might expect on the other side. Anything else we’d have to take under advisement.”
“Could you wait a few minutes? Our mayor is en route. She’s in the building and heading here.”
It took five minutes, and in that time Norwich’s legal counsel and two assistants arrived. He was instantly in agreement with Kurt. “We shouldn’t get involved with arrests unless we can negotiate some sort of extradition or extraterritorial rights from the locals. I’ll make a note and talk to the Attorney General and see if they want to make arrangements with the Arvalans about something like that.”
Kris spoke up instantly. “It can’t be automatic. I don’t think they’d try to get Diyala back, but it’s too important not to be sure. I’m not sure what the laws are on repatriating armed belligerents.”
The lawyer nodded. “We would have to count as neutrals, I think. While there has been armed action against one side, it was without congressional or presidential authorization.”
“Not to mention,” Kris said dryly, “that we attacked them first. We fired the first shot.”
“It was clear that they were the aggressors, however,” Kurt commented.
“All of this is a side issue,” General Briggs said, wanting to get the discussion back on track. “What are we going to do with this?”
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“It seems to me like you have a sound approach,” the lawyer told him. “There is a difference between a rescue and arresting someone. If someone you rescue is wanted, that’s a separate issue. The only problem would be someone who uses the rescue as an excuse to arrest someone. Frankly, you might as well let me prepare some releases for anyone we rescue, saying that the rescued person wanted to be rescued and wants to return back to American jurisdiction.”
The Seattle Chief of Police spoke. “Ms. Hoshi Koga, ladies and gentleman, the mayor of Seattle.”
The woman’s voice was pleasant, and General Briggs introduced himself and the others present with him. The mayor was far more circumspect about going forward than the chief of police had been.
“I saw the pictures of the Chicago site,” the woman said bluntly. “I understand that was in a semi-rural area with an average of less than one home per acre. This device is in a heavily populated area of Seattle. In a two-mile circle there are upwards of twenty thousand people. There are four apartment complexes with a total of more than two thousand units between them and there are roughly six dwellings per acre in the single-family residential zones, on average, on the rest of the two thousand acres involved.
“If what happened in Chicago happened here, particularly without warning -- well, I wouldn’t be mayor the next day. I like being mayor.”
Kris spoke up. “This is Kris Boyle, Madame Mayor. If you open a Far Side door, you take pot luck on what you will find on the other side. We still have no idea what we ran into in Chicago, although it was clear in retrospect that they were trying to use chemical and biological weapons through that door. If you open that door, you will have only the dimmest idea of what is waiting for you on the other side.”
“Not so dim,” the mayor retorted. “The young man involved is a sociopath -- and stupid. He thought he’d wiped his computer clean when he simply deleted all of his personal files. We were able to reconstruct more than 99% of them. He gave a quite detailed description of what he found there, what he was planning to do, and why he was going. He is a diarist. We think he printed it up and took it with him. The other side sounds a lot like Tahiti, down to the bare-chested maidens running around on the beach.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kris told her. “But we are still exploring the technology. We think that if you displace the equipment by more than a few millimeters, you go to someplace completely different. Which means that anything could be possible.”
“My brother is a University of Washington mathematician,” the mayor told her. “We had him look over the equipment. He says that the damage is to just the controls and the like. Physically, the main portions of the machine are functional, although the vacuum pump has been turned off.”
General Briggs spoke up. “Major Sandusky, you’ve been working on some of the issues we’ve faced.”
“Yes, sir. One thing we’ve decided is that it is vital to make the Far Side door physically isolated from the rest of local area -- essentially making it airtight. We’ve found that we can use sprayed-on foam to make an air-tight seal, and that we can further seal it even more tightly with an acrylic layer. We can install a portable airlock and then foam and seal something like a home or small office building and have it ready in twelve hours.
“We’ve been working on radio-controlled probes from this side, tethered probes through the interface, and eventually repeaters that would allow us to work through the interface.
“If nothing else, we’ve learned to take our time and understand what we’re seeing and what we’re up against. I assure you, now that I’ve had my life on the line a couple of times: I’ve become hyper-cautious.
“We have been coordinating with the new President, the Attorney General, NASA, the Defense Department and a number of other federal agencies, Madame Mayor,” General Briggs told her. “What we are trying to do is reduce the risk of something like what happened in Chicago happening again. Currently we envision initial probes being done in a completely remote fashion until we are reasonably certain that there is no risk on this side of the Far Side door.
“Then, and only then, would we try to pass through. This is a slow process. If someone is being chased by a flying pterodactyl, they are pretty much going to be dino dinner. It’s going to take twenty-four to thirty-six hours to get through.
“The only way we could do it faster would be prohibitively expensive and there would be no guarantees. You must know that we are now required to coordinate with the Defense Department. Officially, they don’t say why -- but it’s not like we don’t know, do we?”
“What is your recommendation?” the mayor asked.
“If you want to apprehend the individual, please be frank with us,” General Brigs said. “What we will do is discuss with your people what will be needed for anyone to pass through the Far Side door as safely as possible. We will secure this side, in accordance to the wishes of the government; enforcement of quarantines will be up to you, for any of your own staff who pass through. We will certify that we will comply with the applicable Federal regulations in force at the time. Regrettably, they keep changing them.
“If it will be your people going in pursuit, we will consult with them on some possible dangers they might face. I warn you now, that we’ve found radically different risks on each planet we’ve visited, and that, at most, we can simply provide general guidance.”
“Please,” the mayor pleaded, “we’ll pay you whatever you want. If you don’t want to arrest anyone, I can understand that. I’m sure if it was safe enough for this cowardly little shit to go through, it’ll be safe enough for our officers.”
General Briggs responded calmly, “Madame Mayor, I have two cautions for you. Yes, a total fool could step through a Far Side door, heedless of what was on the other side. Most likely, though, he explored carefully, and as Andie Schulz and Kris Boyle did, he has probably made friends on the other side. Don’t assume because his psychological make up here doesn’t look good, that he’s something other than a hero to people on the other side.
“And, speaking of Kris Boyle. Major Kurt Sandusky, US Army (Retired) will be the man in charge. His primary advisor is Miss Kristine Boyle, age 18. Miss Boyle knows what she is doing. I do not want to hear of Department of Homeland Security bureaucrats giving her a hard time, and I don’t want to hear about local public safety officials wondering why a teenager is telling them what to do.
“Miss Boyle, Mayor, has never lost anyone on the Far Side. Major Sandusky has... he didn’t take Miss Boyle’s warnings seriously and didn’t pass on their serious nature to his people. Trust me, he listens a lot better these days!
“Miss Boyle diagnosed the carbon monoxide attack in Chicago while the police robot operator was still saying ‘What?’ She had the people outside seconds later, and none too soon. Even a few more seconds delay would have put some of her people at risk.
“And, I might add, she and Major Sandusky were discussing what they wanted to do in regards to the site if another attack was launched -- only to be pre-empted by the former President and the Air Force. As you say, you’d just as soon not have that sort of help.”
“No, we don’t want that,” the mayor said evenly. “I wish I could promise you that all of my people will respond appropriately to a civilian expert. I can’t. But I can assure you that the individual in question won’t be in a position to do it a second time.
“As Miss Boyle evidently understands, there are upwards of twenty thousand of my people inside two miles of this device. I can’t kick them out of their homes for days on end. On the other hand, oddly enough, many have already evacuated on their own. If it gets down to the time, we can clear the area in two hours.”
“That will be fine, Mayor. Our team will be en route in ninety minutes,” General Briggs told her.
The phone was hung up, and then to be sure, disconnected. “Any comments?” the general asked.
“I have two small requests,” Kris asked.
“Pete Sharp and what else
?” Kurt replied with a laugh.
“Pete and my roommate, Erica Mirableu. General Briggs, your cadets are fine people, but they are getting too much theory from people whose hearts aren’t in it -- they’ve never been there. I can write a syllabus, and your instructors can deliver it, but without being there... it’s hard to put the necessary thinking in place.”
Kurt was more pragmatic. “The roommate, I have no problem with. It’s her funeral. Pete’s a nice guy, and I don’t want you leading him on.”
Kris grinned. “I am, but not like you think. He was paid for the first time, and he’ll be paid for this. With that, he’ll have enough to attend Norwich. I’ve already asked my father if I can give Pete a scholarship, books, fees, room and board. Dad’s a little busy these days, and I’m still waiting on an answer, but I doubt if he’ll say no.”
Everyone at the table laughed. Oliver Boyle was still working on getting congressmen and senators indicted -- men who’d taken bribe money to influence their votes when Kris, Andie and Ezra had been stranded. Already sixteen congressmen had decided to retire, as well as two senators, an Attorney General, a Vice President and the President. Busy was hardly the word for it! At least Oliver no longer had to worry about the President and the Vice President!
Oliver Boyle deny his daughter something? Probably not!
A short while later, Kris sat down next to Erica in their room. “Want to go on a little all-expenses-paid trip?”
Erica’s eyes lit up. “Yes? Yes! Yes!”
“Then pack your bags. For the first time out, pick the P90 as a personal weapon. Anything that is good enough for Jack O’Neil has to be good enough for the likes of us!”
Pete Sharp was on the plane, and after they were off, he came and sat across from Kris. “If you want to hit on me, there are easier ways.”
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