Finding connections is what any investigator does, and Daniel was unquestionably good at it. But if an investigator assumed a connection existed without evidence, the case would be easily picked apart by industry lawyers in court. Fermilab was an aberration, they’d say. They were pushing the envelope, probing for the breaking point. There was no connection. And those lawyers might be right.
The teams of DOE and IAEA accident investigators swarming over Fermilab, along with Jan Spiegel and Jae-ho Park, would need to find the root cause of the accident. As Jan had pointed out, they were still collecting basic data. Any conclusion based on solid science would take time.
With Fermilab in ruins, their ability to retrace their steps was compromised for the foreseeable future. They would be wholly dependent on facilities elsewhere in the world, requiring still more time. But there was another source of information—if Core would cooperate. The alien intelligence certainly knew more than it had shared, especially when it came to quantum discoveries.
Warm water dripped from the end of his nose in a rhythm that helped to concentrate his thoughts and focus toward a purpose.
Daniel was as frustrated with Core as anyone. It was time to challenge the evasiveness that had characterized so many of their conversations. No more too soon. Get past you’ll learn.
Core was right to point out that humans had a long way to go in our understanding of the universe, but if we were treading dangerously close to disaster, a simple warning wasn’t too much to ask. Only a sociopath watches a child playing with matches without comment.
No more weasel words. If you’re friendly, prove it.
It was, of course, a very human reaction based in frustration and anger. Core was not human in manner or mindset, nor should anyone expect it to be. If Daniel wanted to make headway quickly, the next conversation would need to challenge some of the rules. But it was time. Two scientists may have lost their lives.
Daniel resolved to confront the all-powerful alien. How Core would react was impossible to know. But to get to Core, he’d need a facility with the technology to compress space. CERN was probably out of the question; Geneva tended to conform strictly to the rules as defined by IAEA. He could make some calls as he’d promised Jan to gain cooperation from the Chinese. And there was always this rogue lab in Romania. There were possibilities, but all were probably long shots and would take time.
The hot water poured across his shoulders and he wiped water from his face as another thought came in from left field. There was another path.
Aastazin.
He had never met the artificial intelligence, but as far as Daniel knew, he, she or it was still at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. For that matter, the portal the katanaut team had used to get to Ixtlub should, theoretically, still be operational. Even if the android was the only one who knew how to operate the system, it was a potential path to Core.
Daniel shut off the water and stepped out into the foggy bathroom. He wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his phone from the counter. He could have called the White House or the main number of KSC, but there was a better way, faster and more reliable. A former partner and a good friend.
She was still in his list of contacts. Daniel dialed, and Marie Kendrick answered.
20
Void
Nala sat cross-legged next to Thomas, a water bottle in her hand and two more unopened. She gently lifted his head and dribbled a bit of water into his mouth and then carefully lowered his head onto a sheet of bubble wrap that she’d found. She stroked his hair and ran the back of her fingers across the stubble around the edges of his beard. The color had left his skin and his moans were less frequent.
She’d found the first-aid kit, battered but usable. Thanks, DOE safety guy. I owe you one. The job of properly dressing the wound had taken time, but she hadn’t shrunk from the task, even when an artery had opened up again. At least it showed his body was maintaining blood pressure.
She’d done the best she could with the materials she could find. Thomas lay on pieces of carpeting. He looked comfortable, even though his condition was clearly critical.
Wherever this place was, it was cold and getting colder. With most of her pants used for the initial bandage, all she had left were ripped shorts and bare legs. But the floor felt warmer than the air. Why? The difference in temperature was data… and data could always be leveraged.
Heat is transferred in three ways: radiation, conduction and convection. Radiant heat transfers via photons. We feel the radiant heat of the sun on our skin. Conduction occurs through direct contact. Her legs were warmer where they touched the floor. But more commonly, heat transfers by convection—air movement. Warmer and more energetic molecules of air physically move from one place to another through currents in the air.
Since it was getting colder, that probably meant there was little or no warm air coming in, coupled with radiant cooling, probably radiating out through the dual sizzling walls of death. She could stay warm against the floor, but the lack of fresh air coming in was beyond her control.
Not so good for those of us who like to breathe.
But why was the floor warmer? She had no answer. She leaned forward and studied it closely. A patchwork of colors, mostly gray, black or off-white. A stripe of light blue here, a circle of brown there. A jumble, like layers of shapes laid on top of each other, but flattened into a thin sheet.
She stood up and felt dizzy. The act of standing was extremely disorienting. Up didn’t feel like up, and down didn’t feel any better. It was an off-balance experience, wobbly and unsteady.
Like being drunk.
Or worse, like being a drunk gymnast doing a balance beam routine. Some of it might be the stale air but she couldn’t help but think the floor itself was the primary culprit. Nothing felt right.
Nala picked up a broken length of wood and stepped closer to the vertical wall, still sizzling with tiny sparks, still looking rather deadly. She was thankful the smell of burning meat—Thomas’s leg—had dissipated. Bending down, she pushed the stick into the wall. The wood crackled like a campfire, and smoke poured away from its edges, but without any flame. Withdrawing, the end of the stick was cleanly sliced, just like Thomas’s leg.
Hell, no. We’re not getting out that way.
More information. A boundary she could not cross. Even the floor ended, and whatever was beyond was clearly inhospitable to life, or maybe anything. What were the sparks? Bits of dust vaporizing as they touched a wall of high energy? Air molecules exiting this bubble of reality?
Nala stood again, still dizzy. Keeping the bright light behind her and the sizzling wall of death to her right, she proceeded directly into the darkness ahead, kicking debris as she went to clear a path. After thirty paces, she turned around to gauge her position. Debris was spread across a large area and the light remained motionless above it all. The light’s position hadn’t changed in the slightest. It felt like walking away from the sun hanging in the sky. Another data point to consider.
She kept walking and soon found the edge of the debris field. Beyond it, the floor continued, and without debris covering it, she realized that the floor itself was a secondary source of light—it glowed. She walked on, noting the floor patterns changing as she walked. Above and ahead, there was nothing but a void of darkness. No stars in the sky, if it was a sky. No other light at all. Just black.
The walking was easier without debris. Just ahead, she noticed movement on the floor. It looked like running water swirling in a basin. She stopped and bent down. Definitely water; it shimmered and splashed even while remaining strangely flat. Like the fluttering cloth she’d seen before, it looked like a video embedded in the floor. A children’s swimming pool as seen from above.
She touched it with the tip of her finger. The watery floor was hard, but her finger came back wet. A circular ripple expanded from where she’d touched. She touched again and produced another ripple. “Okay, this is just too weird,” she said aloud.
&nb
sp; “Thomas,” she yelled. “You’ve got to see this.” Her voice sounded muffled. Thomas was clearly not getting up to run over.
Sigh.
She ran back toward the light, along the same path she’d cleared. When she reached Thomas, she stopped. The dizziness returned, much stronger.
“Okay, running might be a bad idea. Avoid that, if you can, Thomas.”
The white bandage on his leg had turned red on the end. Was that a good sign? Blood pumping, tissues around the injury getting what they need?
“Who am I kidding? I’m no doctor.”
She bent down next to him and listened to his shallow breathing. Thoughts of their work together entered her mind. They’d been a good team, for several years. She planned, he executed. Together they’d made history, exposing the underlying structure of the universe and even figuring out how to manipulate it. Quantum space was an entirely new branch of physics.
That was all in the past. She looked around the debris field that had once been their laboratory. Smashed chairs, broken electronic components. A family photo that Thomas kept on the workbench. Tears ran down her cheeks and her throat tightened. “I’m really sorry, Thomas. I totally fucked this up. Everything. It’s all my fault.”
She leaned over and laid her head on his chest. His heart still beat, but it didn’t sound very strong. “Can you ever forgive me, my friend?”
She reached across him and picked up his Viking hat. It had been buried under a pile of broken wood and wall insulation. She put the slightly crushed hat on his head and smiled. “You look great, Thomas. If I had my camera…”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up again. The dizziness returned, stronger. There wasn’t much time left.
This is going to end badly.
She walked toward the light—the singularity. Whatever it was, she was determined to meet it head-on. She tripped on some debris, caught her fall, and continued. Woozy now. Her head was very light, her vision blurred and spinning. Her legs felt wobbly, each step shakier than the last. Her fingers tingled.
The world began to spin. Nala let out her last breath and collapsed to the floor.
21
Florida
Tires squealed as the military Gulfstream G300 touched down on the world’s longest runway. The Shuttle Landing Facility at Kennedy Space Center hadn’t seen a shuttle for more than a decade, and though the enormous runway more often provided a sundeck for alligators, it still occasionally served as a gateway to and from space. Commercial operators had taken over, launching tourists to twenty-five miles above the atmosphere for a quick look-see and a brief period of weightlessness. For the wealthy, it made a good add-on after taking the kids to Disneyworld.
Daniel had done his fiscal duty, flying commercial to Texas and Chicago. This time, it was worth a phone call to Janine to arrange the military flight. The flight was direct to KSC. No fighting the hordes of tourists in Orlando International, no requests for autographs from the famous scientist, and easier on his frazzled nerves. With Jan joining him, it might even have made financial sense. Janine made it happen; she always did.
Forty minutes later, the pair had their visitor badges and followed signs guiding them down a long hallway at the Neil Armstrong Operations and Checkout Building. Daniel spotted a familiar face coming from the opposite direction. They both ran the last few steps.
“Marie.” Daniel held out both arms and hugged her tight.
“Great to see you again, Daniel,” Marie said.
She hadn’t changed a bit, even after her well-publicized off-world experience. She still wore the same black glasses she probably didn’t need. A clean, fresh look with a wholesome face, short dark hair, with an offset part that pushed most of it to one side. With her impressive list of accomplishments, Daniel had already learned not to judge her by youthful looks. Now, she’d added interstellar katanaut to her resume.
Daniel felt like a proud older brother. “I know you’re busy. Thanks for helping us out.”
Marie returned a warm smile and held Daniel’s arms as she talked. “Zin said he’d be delighted to help, but that’s typical Zin.”
Daniel hadn’t heard the diminutive before, but it made sense. “I’m really looking forward to meeting him. It is a him?”
“Oh, yes. He’s humanoid by design. Male, but oddly adaptable. Maybe he’s got a female voice in there somewhere.”
Daniel spent a moment examining his onetime partner. Maybe she had changed. Not physically, but she projected a greater maturity that he hadn’t seen before. The baby face had grown up. It shouldn’t be surprising; this woman had just spent two days on another planet.
Jan shook Marie’s hand. “The very famous katanaut, Ms. Marie Kendrick. I watched you on TV. Intensely exciting.”
Marie nodded in acknowledgment. “I was honored to be included on the team and thrilled to stand on another planet.”
“But glad to be home?” Jan asked.
“Of course,” Marie said.
They caught up as they walked to the O&C clean room. Marie provided a firsthand summary of her adventure to Ixtlub, but a few of her descriptions were cut short. She was withholding, no doubt, but perhaps some of the mission was classified. Daniel didn’t press her.
Marie stopped walking and turned to Daniel. “I heard about Nala. So sad.” She put a hand on Jan’s arm. “I know she was your colleague. Such an incredible talent.”
“Thank you,” Jan said. “A terrible tragedy, personally, and a great loss for science. It’s the main reason we’re here. We don’t want this to happen again.”
Marie nodded. “I hope Zin can help. He said he would try, but it might be complicated.” She looked up at Daniel, who remained silent. The only words he had left would wait until he could speak with Core. It seemed a simple task for the android to arrange the connection. He certainly had the technology.
The three continued silently down the corridor until they reached a door with a guard stationed at a desk outside. “Zin should already be here.” Marie showed her ID, and the guard checked Daniel and Jan’s visitors’ badges.
As they opened the door, they nearly bumped into a fast-moving figure coming the other way.
“Pardon me, so sorry,” Zin said. “I was coming to look for you, Marie, but I see you’ve found Dr. Rice and Dr. Spiegel.”
The spindly android turned to Jan. “Goede dag Dokter Spiegel, hoe gaat het met u?” Jan was Dutch, and the android was said to be an accomplished linguist in most if not all Earth languages, but Daniel was still surprised at the impromptu performance.
“Dank u, Aastazin,” Jan replied. “But I’m sure we can all speak English.”
“Of course,” Zin said. “Please call me Zin, everyone does.” He extended a metal hand to Daniel. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dr. Rice.”
“For me, too,” Daniel said. He took Zin’s slender hand, cold, with fewer digits than normal. His flat eyes jumped around on his face, and his almost normal mouth was turned up into a natural, if overdone, smile. “I’ve heard much about you, and something about the mission to Ixtlub.”
“It went well, I think.” Zin looked at Marie. “Though I’m sure Marie has more that she can tell you.”
“She just did,” Daniel said. “The Dancers sound fascinating.”
“Yes, they’re a delightful species,” Zin said. “I do enjoy my visits there. What did you think of the Workers?” Marie looked down at the floor.
“I guess I didn’t hear about them.” Daniel glanced at Marie. “I gather they’re… different?”
“Quite so,” said Zin. “Rougher. Most humans might say cruder, but also quite intelligent.”
Daniel turned to Marie who still watched the floor. “You seem—”
“Yes, they were fascinating too,” she said. “But to be honest, one day with the Workers was enough.” Marie had the expression of a mom who had just cleaned up after a sick child, or dog… or both. “Let’s just say the experience was a little creepy.”
“So, you—” Daniel started, but Marie cut him off again.
“Best not to dig too deep, Daniel.” Marie seemed adamant that she wasn’t going down that path.
Zin tactfully changed the subject. “Come into the clean room and let’s discuss how to best meet your needs.”
They entered the cavernous space, their footsteps echoing in the empty chamber. The white oval portal still dominated the center of the room, looking just as futuristic as it had on television. Four chairs on pedestals were arranged between the portal and a large control station.
“So you can take us to Core through the portal?” Daniel asked. A trip had already been implied but not confirmed. Daniel decided to cut through the polite quality that seemed to come naturally to Zin and make this conversation as direct as possible.
“Can I? Yes,” Zin answered. “But that’s not the real question.”
“Is there an issue?” Daniel asked.
Zin motioned to the empty chairs. “Would you like to sit?”
Daniel shook his head no. “What’s the issue, Zin?” he repeated.
Zin paused. Whether androids needed time to think before speaking or whether Zin was mimicking human patterns was an open question. “Dr. Rice, as the primary spokesperson for humanity, you more than anyone recognize that there are protocols to follow for any conversation. Your request to meet with Core is impromptu.” He held up a hand. “Not out of line, by any means. Just unexpected, which requires some additional analysis.”
“This meeting is important. Are we going or not?” Keep it direct.
Zin’s eyes flitted between the three humans. “Potentially. Please understand that Core has duties—”
“Core is too busy to see us?”
“No, it’s not that.” Zin lowered his head and lifted his eyes. “It’s the concept of eschewal. An uncommon word I believe in English, but it’s the closest approximation.”
“Eschew? To avoid or bypass?”
Quantum Void Page 14