by Darren Beyer
“What did you find during those early experiments?”
“All the basic laws of wormhole creation, control, and use. We verified them later, of course, but those laws appeared in our earliest experiments. The most profound law is the relation between hyperium coils and the mass of the object traveling through the wormhole hyperium creates. You’ve heard the expression ‘nature abhors a vacuum.’ Well, nature really abhors a wormhole. As soon as a wormhole forms, it wants to collapse in on itself, like gravity pulling in its walls. Hyperium does two things: it creates the gravitational warp that allows the wormhole to form, and then it emits a sort of anti-gravity that pushes out against the walls of the wormhole, allowing it to remain open. The higher the mass of the object traveling through the wormhole, the more force that must be exerted. More force means more hyperium and larger coils.”
“And this is the basis for what you’ve called the Hyperium Paradox?”
“Yes, the Hyperium Paradox.” Jans eyed her warily. This was an unexpected turn.
“Can you explain it?”
“At a high level, yes,” he said cautiously. “The amount of hyperium used for each jump increases cubically with the mass of objects traveling through the wormhole. This means that if you double the mass, you must multiply the required hyperium by eight. While small jump pods can travel at low expense between star systems, carrying news and information, it is not practical to send larger ships. The cost in hyperium simply becomes too high.”
“And the paradox?”
“Yes, well the Hyperium Paradox is that the very thing that opens the stars also limits our ability to reach them.”
“And there is a military application of the Hyperium Paradox, isn’t there?” The reporter sharpened her gaze.
“Yes,” Jans answered shortly.
“Doesn’t the military application refer to the fact that once a non-jump military force reaches a certain level in a remote system, it becomes essentially unassailable, due to sheer economics?”
“I’m familiar with that principle.”
“So what do you say to members of the Assembly who worry that you are building such a defensive force that could become unassailable, based upon current interstellar fleet sizes and capabilities? Is your plan, in moving to Eridani, to eventually break away from Earth as an independent system?”
Jans took a deep breath. It would be a long day.
Chapter 23
Earth
The first rays of the sun rising over Florida broke the horizon, casting light on the sand dunes and backlighting the spray of crashing waves. At another time, it could have been a perfect morning, driving along a remote stretch of A1A with the windows down and ocean air filling her lungs, a handsome man at her side. The Canaveral River filled the view on one side, the unspoiled dunes and Atlantic Ocean on the other. Mandi looked over at Grae. The car’s auto-drive was off, and Grae had taken the controls as though it was as natural to him as walking. Thinking bitterly of her last encounter with an auto-driver and of her own injuries, she was reassured with Grae at the controls. His pistol was tucked away under his light jacket, never out of his reach, and she was also reassured by his capability to keep her safe.
“Do guns make you nervous?” Grae asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
“No.” Mandi snapped her eyes forward. “As long as they’re not trying to kill me.”
“About your little incident, you’ve been light on the details.”
“I’ve told you what I know,” Mandi lied. “At least what I can remember clearly.” That was less of a lie.
“You told me that your source contacted you with nuclear signature data from the terror plot before it became public—”
“Not just before it became public. Before the uranium used in the terror plot had even been tested.”
“And he knew that it would point the finger at AIC.” Mandi nodded. “Because he worked in the reprocessing facility that enriched it. This took place over how long?”
“I honestly don’t remember exactly. All the data was on the chip, and I was pretty excited. I think he said that his total contract was for eighteen months. He said the source material arrived sporadically. Sometimes they’d be down while they waited for more.”
“So either someone figured out how to mimic AIC’s uranium, or they’ve been smuggling it off Eridani. Neither is easy.” Grae slowed the car.
Ahead, through the subdued morning light, Mandi saw a weathered sign for the Sebastian Inlet Marina. The dark road was overgrown with tropical greenery, its surface of cracked pavement looked as though it hadn’t been maintained for years. The road soon opened into the parking lot of a small marina where half a dozen boats were berthed at floating docks. Several more were out of the water up on blocks. Three sailors were loading gear and supplies into an ancient sport fishing boat with Deep Blue in cursive on the transom. Mandi hoped that wasn’t their ride.
Andros was part of the Bahamas, and the island nation was not a part of the Euramerican Coalition. That afforded their trip some level of security. It featured thousands of kilometers of barren coastline on which they could land unseen. The Bahamas had at one time been a central hub of drug trafficking between South America and the United States, and old, unregistered coral airstrips still dotted the islands. Mandi knew the Bahamas were now convenient for smuggling goods and people in and out of the Euramerican Coalition.
“Stay in the car,” Grae said. “I’m going to check on things.”
As he crossed the pitted parking lot, a man wearing overalls, a red baseball cap, and a week’s worth of five o’clock shadow came out of the dilapidated bait shop. Grae stopped, and the two spoke for a minute. Conversation soon became heated, and Mandi cracked the window so that she could hear.
“I don’t care if mine isn’t ready—” Grae was almost yelling. “Just give me one of those.” He gestured toward the empty boats at the dock.
“If I could, I would, but those ain’t mine. Mine runs on diesel, and one of my engines blew a head gasket. I can’t do nothin’ about that.”
“Then put it back in the water. I’ll go with one—”
Mandi’s attention was drawn to the fishing boat preparing to leave for a day on the ocean.
***
“Can I have a minute?” Mandi appeared at Grae’s elbow.
Surprised, Grae turned. He took her by the arm and pulled her out of earshot.
“You were supposed to stay in the car.”
“But—”
“We’ve got a problem, Mandi. That boat up on blocks was supposed to be our ride. I’ve got to have a replacement. Another charter is out of the question.” Grae looked out the channel toward the Canaveral River. “A lot of the houses along the river are winter homes. A lot of owners probably haven’t made the trip south yet. Some have boat docks. I might be able to steal—”
“Or you could just get our bags,” Mandi interrupted.
He looked at her in confusion.
“We’re going out on the Deep Blue.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “I told them we’re a film crew doing a piece on open-water fishing and that our charter fell through. I offered to cover their fuel, pay a thousand bits, and give them a starring role.” She couldn’t place the look on his face, but she enjoyed seeing it. “I assume that you can cover the costs.” She flashed him a smug smile.
“We’ve got to get to Andros,” Grae said. “Not just offshore. They’ll probably be fishing only fifty clicks out. It’s more than four hundred to Andros.”
“I find that if you ask for everything up front you usually don’t get it.” Her impish grin grew larger. “I’m getting us out of here. You take care of the rest. Except that—” she gestured toward the weapon holstered on his chest, “—stays where it is.”
Grae shook his head. “We don’t even know if they’ve got a full tank of fuel.”
“With you covering the bill, do you think they’ll leave with anything less?” She smiled at the Deep Blue. “Get our s
tuff, and try to look a little less like some sort of secret agent, would you?”
The ride through the Sebastian Inlet was harrowing. Incoming rollers meeting the strong, outgoing ebb stacked up in the narrow channel, creating tall, steep, looming waves. Large, jagged limestone boulders lined the sides to form a break. They added their own chaos to the mix. Seaward, the rocks transformed into large jetties extending into the Atlantic, where fishermen stood precariously against the morning sky, casting their lures. Some few surfers dodged the dangerous rocks and fishing lines as they rode the best waves on Florida’s eastern coast.
Once the Deep Blue was clear of Sebastian Inlet and past the rock jetties, the seas noticeably calmed, leaving only light chop. About fifty kilometers out, they hit a weed line, and the crew prepared to drop their fishing lines into the water. Mandi tensed as Grae stepped forward, but to her surprise the three were perfectly happy to get another full tank at Andros and five thousand bits for their trouble, no questions asked.
“The Deep Blue needs a few upgrades,” the captain said. He was heavy set, with a beer belly and a toothy smile. He wore cut-off sweatpants and a T-shirt from the annual Cape Canaveral fishing tournament dated fifteen years earlier. “We may not catch anything this trip. But we can buy a lot of fish with five large.”
The old boat could barely make twenty-five knots, chugging over the rolling sea through the better part of the day and night to make the four hundred kilometers. Mandi stood on deck most of the chilly night, anxious with anticipation. Wrapped in a coat donated by one of the fishermen, she had tried to lay down on a bunk, but the rocking of the boat made her nauseous. In low voices Grae and the captain spoke in the wheelhouse. The last hours were darkest. No moon illuminated the sky. Only starlight, the vessel’s green and red running lights, and a strange green phosphorescence trailing the boat in the darkness provided any light to see by. Mandi scanned the horizon periodically. Occasionally, she saw a pinpoint of light, either another boat or some remote house on an unnamed island. It wasn’t until the sun reflected off the sky to the east that she made out the low shadow of a large island. They’d reached Andros.
The rising sun bathed the Deep Blue in orange light, forcing Mandi to squint and cover her eyes. From the fly bridge, Grae guided the captain to the southwest of the island, as the sunrise provided picturesque backlighting for the taller palms. As they approached the island, he pointed toward a secluded cove, indicating caution. A narrow beach backed by thick vegetation covered much of the shoreline. A decaying concrete pier and the rotted carcass of a partially sunken boat broke the otherwise tranquil waters.
Grae gave directions on shoals and submerged hazards, as the captain piloted the Deep Blue to the pier. Grae leapt from the starboard bow and grasped the edge of the boat to put all his strength into keeping it from scraping on the concrete. One of the crew jumped off as well, and the two carefully helped Mandi down. Her ribs ached, and the landing jarred her arm, making her bite her lip. The sailor shook Grae’s hand, and then pushed the Deep Blue back from the pier and jumped back onboard. The captain and crew waved, and Grae and Mandi waved back. They watched the captain deftly maneuver back to deeper water and vanish out of sight around the point.
“What now?”
“Now,” Grae replied, taking in a deep breath of humid tropical air. “We walk.”
With Grae stopping to help Mandi across perilous sections, the two navigated the crumbling pier to the shoreline. Once on the beach, Mandi noted the low, heavy scrub brush that created an impenetrable barrier inland. Grae pointed down the beach to a concealed opening that had been carefully cut in the tropical brush. Pushing aside overhanging palm fronds, Grae made his way through, taking Mandi to a wide, clear path beyond. Wild birds took flight, and countless small lizards skittered out of their way as they walked, rustling through old, fallen palm fronds. It was as though the island itself were alive.
A short walk took them to a long cleared area, obviously an old airstrip. Coral gravel covered much of the expanse, while intermittent grasses and small shrubs grew along the length. Off to one side sat an old plane wreck.
“That’s a drug runner.” Grae caught Mandi staring. “It’s probably been there a hundred years. A couple more are down at the other end. Don’t worry—they always overloaded those things. Ours won’t be.”
Grae moved to a group of limestone rocks to retrieve a telescoping pole and a faded, weathered windsock. He fit the pole of the windsock into a mounting hole and raised it to be visible to any approaching aircraft. Mandi looked up at it, barely moving in the slack wind, as Grae pulled off his pack and retrieved two bottles of water.
“Take a seat.” He sat and held a bottle of water out for Mandi. “It might be a while.”
Mandi took the water and sat next to him on the limestone ledge, cradling her arm.
It was hours later. The air had become warm, the sky blue and clear, when a small plane overflew the airstrip. Grae stood. The small twin-prop aircraft wagged its wings and went into a wide, looping turn. Mandi watched it set up for approach into the opposite end of the strip, where it extended its landing gear, dropped its flaps, and slowed as though falling out of the sky. Nose down, it swooped toward the runway. At the last second the nose pulled up, the aircraft went into its flare, and the wheels landed hard. Immediately, the engines revved to full power, their props reversed, and the plane slowed to taxi speed in seconds. Rolling to their end of the strip, the twin-prop revved one engine and turned in an impossibly tight circle to face back down the runway.
Grae ran to the windsock and yanked it down, and stowed behind the limestone rocks. He retrieved their bags and jogged across the white coral gravel to the plane. Mandi followed, and Grae helped her onboard the six-seat aircraft. He and the pilot shouted greetings drowned out by the noise of the engine.
Grae closed the door behind them, as the pilot stood on the brakes and took the engines back to full power. The plane shook, wash from the props buffeting its wings. Grae gestured to Mandi to take a seat and buckle her seatbelt. No sooner had he climbed into the cockpit’s right seat than the pilot released the brakes. The plane all but leapt off the runway to climb toward the sun, carrying Mandi away from her past and into an uncertain future.
Chapter 24
Eridani
Jans’ heart raced as he hurried up the stairs to the rail station. Even with the press hounding him and news networks demonizing him, for the first time in weeks he had slept soundly.
Today the maglev train would make its first trip around the inner ring of New Reykjavik, this city that Jans had worked tirelessly to make beautiful, efficient, and enjoyable. Some called it ego driving his grand plan on this planet so far from Earth, but grand plans call for grand designs, and Jans had no shortage of those. He had invested heavily in 3-D printing and manufacturing, focusing on importing mining and processing equipment. Becoming self-sufficient was his first priority. Building New Reykjavik and other settlements on Eridani and within its star system with materials harvested locally was critical to his plans.
As Jans reached the raised platform, he saw the four-car train on the tracks, setting a beautiful backdrop for his smiling engineering team. The cars and much of the rail system had been imported at great expense and ferried through countless orbital shuttle flights. This first incarnation of mass transit would never pay for itself, but it was more than just public transportation—it was a symbol that normalcy had finally reached Eridani.
“I hear you’ve got something pretty cool to show me.” Jans grinned, rubbing his hands as he approached the team.
“Yes, sir.” The team lead stepped up on the balls of her feet and swung her arms in excitement. “We were up most the night, but it’s ready. Really ready. It was a team effort.”
“I think you all realize how important this is to me, and I want you to know how much I appreciate your effort.” Jans put a hand on her shoulder. “But I didn’t come out here to talk, and you didn’t work all night just to list
en to me.”
The crowd of engineers let out a genuine laugh. The team lead opened her portable holovid, which she set on a workbench in front of Jans. She activated the control package for the train, and a holographic panel sprang into place as she tapped her fingers across the screen to activate the systems.
“Ready for the ride of your life?”
Jans gave a single nod, but he paused at the sight of Danny Dagan laboring up the stairs to the station.
“The escalators come online next week, Danny,” Jans yelled across the platform.
Dagan held up a hand. “The day I cannot walk up a few stairs is the day I should retire.” He motioned good-naturedly.
The team laughed as Dagan crossed the platform.
“You’re coming along, of course,” Jans said.
Breathing heavily, Dagan shrugged and joined Jans at the door to the train. The team lead activated the holoscreen controls, reaching into them to power up the system. A series of mechanical clunks emanated from the train as the cars each elevated a few inches. Lights illuminated inside, and in unison all of the doors slid open. The lead tipped her head forward and swept her arm generously toward the open door of the first car.
“After you.” Jans smiled and turned to face Dagan. “You know what they say—”
“Yes, yes, age before beauty.”
Dagan climbed aboard, and Jans followed. The team lead stepped in behind them, and the doors slid closed.
The view of the city from the raised maglev rails gave Jans an entirely different perspective. This was not the view from either high atop AIC Tower or ground level among the buildings and construction. As the train whisked around the inner ring, Jans stood at the front window feeling like a child on an amusement park ride. For those brief few minutes, he forgot the pressures from Earth. He forgot the uranium and the terror plot. He forgot the loss of the Gaussian. Sophia—Sophia he would never forget, but perhaps he could put her in a safe place in his mind just for now.