Across the Great Rift

by Washburn, Scott;

  “Right, Sheil,” came the response over the com. The camera was about thirty meters away, probably in Sheila’s command pod, and he could see as his men guided the first two sections of the gate’s support structure. Damn, he wished he had been there. He always made it a point to be on the scene at the official start of a job.

  The gap decreased and the closing speed was reduced again until it was barely possible to see the movement with the unaided eye. The two curving girders, once used to join ships of the Rift Fleet together, massed over a thousand tons apiece and could not just be clanged together. The clamps were in place and they guided the last few centimeters.

  “Contact! The sections are in contact. Good job, people. Kelso, lock it down; Panno, how’s the overall motion?”

  “We’ve got a little twist and rotation, Sheila. Only a couple of millimeters per second, though, we can get it damped out in a few minutes.”

  Crawford smiled and shook his head; that had gone very well. It was almost like they didn’t need him…

  “Okay, everyone, we’re building ourselves a gate!” shouted Sheila. A hundred cheers came back to her over the com.

  “Getting a little cocky, aren’t you, Sheila?” said Crawford to the recording. “Two pieces connected and we got what—about a million more to go?”

  She didn’t answer, of course, but he was correct: this was only the start of an enormous job. The two pieces just joined were part of the structural support ring. The completed gate would be over a kilometer in diameter, so these two, fifty-meter pieces had such a gentle curve, it could scarcely be seen. Sixty-seven more pieces needed to be jockeyed into place to complete the support ring—and that was the easy part. Then the supplementary bracing and reinforcements had to be added, the mounting brackets for all the reactors and equipment; align it all, check, recheck, and realign, lay in the primary induction ring—and what a bitch that was going to be—hook in the reactors and field generators, wire the whole thing, and then… Yeah there was a hell of a lot of work still to do. Nevertheless, Crawford felt the same old thrill he always did at the start of a job. He would take an empty chunk of space and turn it into something useful; what greater satisfaction could a man ask for? And by God I’ll be there for the rest of it!

  “So, Greg, you see how it’s done?” asked Sheila. “Think you can handle the next one?”

  “Sure, Sheil,” said VanVean’s voice. “It’s not like I’m a rookie, y’know.”

  “No, you’re not, but then you know how I worry.”

  “Yeah, I do. You’re like my mother—or like Chuck.”

  “Hey!” said Crawford aloud.

  “Watch it, Greg, I’m sending a copy of this to Chuck.”

  “Well, hell, if you’re doing that, be sure to tell him that for running off and leaving us all the work I think he’s a real son of a…”

  The recording of the construction site ended rather abruptly and it left Crawford chuckling. A few seconds later he was looking at Sheila’s image again, although it was huge because he was still hooked into the big display. He quickly routed it back to his comp. “As you can tell, morale is pretty good. At least for the most part.” The smile left her face and she went on. “But I have to tell you that not everyone’s happy. Chuck, we’ve been hearing rumors that they are going to keep the families in cold-sleep. You know anything about that? That’s got quite a few of the married people worried. I’ve been stalling about answering them, but I’m going to need something pretty soon. I’d appreciate it if you could get something back to me—before you get back from your trip. I’m also forwarding a batch of routine stuff for you to look over. Wouldn’t want your vacation to be too easy now, would I? And hey, watch your ass you big lunk and get it back here ASAP, okay?” The message ended.

  Crawford frowned. He’d asked Shiffeld that same question about the families still in cold-sleep before he’d left, but Shiffeld had not given him any answer. Frankly, he didn’t see any good answer, himself. They’d originally planned to construct some temporary living quarters in a few of the supply ships once they were emptied out, as well as in the four family transports, but there just wasn’t the manpower or time to divert to that now. And it might actually be safer to have the families still in cold-sleep and ready to make a fast getaway if things went bad…

  The buzzer on his door chimed.

  “Come on in,” he said and hit the door-release button. The metal hatch slid aside and he was somewhat surprised to see Regina Nassau floating there. “Oh, come in, Dame Regina.” She did so and expertly pulled herself into a chair. Crawford nodded in approval at her skill in zero-G.

  “Stuff the ‘dame’ business, Charles. I ain’t nobody’s dame.”

  “You accepted the title, Regina, just like I did.”

  “I know,” snorted the woman. She was frowning fiercely and for some reason that made her look even more attractive than her usual smile. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have told Shiffeld to shove that knighthood up his…”

  “You don’t seem to like our esteemed leader, Regina.”

  She looked at him and then shook her head. “No, no I don’t.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  She hesitated for an instant before answering. “No. At least nothing I can put my finger on.” She laughed sourly. “Maybe the problem is with me. All my life I’ve had an instinctive dislike of people in authority. No, let’s be even more honest: all my life I’ve had problems with people who have had authority over me. Parents, teachers, bosses, governors… protectors, they’ve all rubbed me the wrong way. I keep telling myself that if I ever encounter someone who is smarter and more talented and more worthy than I am, then I won’t have any problem following that person.” She stopped and grinned at him. “But that hasn’t happened yet. I’m a victim of my own perfection.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Crawford, grinning back at her. “A problem I’m familiar with myself.”

  Regina laughed again and it had a nice sound. “At last, a fellow demi-god who is not in my own chain of command who I can commiserate with. So, tell me: why did you accept that knighthood?”

  “It’s something I’ve thought about—something I’ve dreamed about for a long time.”

  Regina’s expression changed and became more serious. “Oh dear, have I misjudged my confidant? I didn’t take you for a social climber, Charles.”

  “It’s not the title,” he said defensively, “it’s the opportunities. You’re one of the profs, from the academic class, so you might not know what it’s like being a tech. Theoretically, I’m a free man, I can just walk away from a job or a boss I don’t like. In practice it’s not so simple. I work for Dougherty Construction, Ltd, which is owned by Baron Dougherty. My father and my grandfather worked for Dougherty, Ltd when it was owned by the present baron’s father and grandfather. I’m a ‘Dougherty Man’—whether I want to be or not. If I was to walk away, the baron would feel betrayed and be hurt and angry. Word would get around and I’d have a hell of a time getting hired by any of the other big firms. And despite the supposed impartiality of the guilds, the smaller firms would be leery of incurring the wrath of the big boys if they hired me.” He paused and looked at Regina. She was watching him closely, it seemed. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her any of this. “For a long time now I’ve dreamed of starting my own company. It’s not that Dougherty is a bad place to work, far from it. It’s just that… I really want to be my own man.”

  “I understand,” said Regina. “Believe me, Charles, I do understand.”

  “Well, then maybe you can understand that this knighthood gives me the opportunity. As a peer—even an extremely junior peer—I can walk away from Dougherty. I can form my own company, and I can get work contracts and bank loans, and the baron can’t do a thing about it. For him to even act angry would be disgraceful. He has to let me go and smile about it. Even more important—at least to me—tradition dictates that I can take a number of my subordinates with me. I think that was what held me b
ack from walking more than anything else: the fact that I’d have to leave all my friends behind.”

  “Friends are important to you,” stated Regina.

  “Yes. In my experience there’s nothing more important.”

  “Well, for your sake and the sake of your friends, Charles Crawford, I hope Shiffeld can get your knighthood confirmed when we get back. But for the moment, I’d advise you to keep eyes in the back of your head.”

  “Oh?”

  “Shiffeld’s desperate, Charles. He puts on a brave front, but underneath he’s frantic. I don’t know what he’s got riding on this expedition—I mean personally—but he’s terrified he’s going to lose it. The sabotage might not be his fault—almost certainly wasn’t—but he’s worried, probably with good reason, that he’ll be blamed for it. His only hope is to carry out the mission anyway and he’s not going to let anyone stop him.”

  “Well, it seems to me we need that sort of mentality if we are going to win through.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve gotten a report from a friend in my department that Shiffeld has been prowling around, talking to people, making promises. Rumor has it that it’s the same in the other departments. Shiffeld lost all his own cronies to the sabotage. Seems to me he’s recruiting a new batch—from our people. So don’t assume that every one of your ‘friends’ is still working for you.”

  Crawford frowned. He had not really thought about this. A few dozen of his clerical people had been transferred to Shiffeld’s staff, but he knew who they were. Was Shiffeld recruiting other people that he didn’t know about?

  “But… but we’re all on the same side, Regina. We’re all working for the same goal.”

  “Maybe, but people like you and me also have guiding principles, Charles. If you fall behind schedule on your gate, would you deliberately cut safety margins and put your people at risk just to meet Shiffeld’s deadline?”

  “It would depend on the situation, but in general, no.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. But do you think Shiffeld would just accept your answer?”

  “What choice would he have? I’m in charge of gate construction.”

  “Yes, you are. For right now.”

  Crawford frowned. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. Regina seemed to sense it and unstrapped from her chair and pushed herself toward the hatch.

  “Maybe I’m wrong,” she said, looking back. “But I’d advise you to think about what I’ve said. See you later, Charles.”

  The hatch slid shut behind her.

  * * * * *

  “I am sorry, my old friend,” said Brannon Gillard. “If I had not asked, none of this would have happened. I grieve with you and your family.” He looked across the room to where the leader of the Clorinda Clan sat on a chair carved literally out of the rock of the asteroid. The man might have been carved of the same substance. There was no cushion or padding on that chair, but Brannon was sure that any pain or discomfort the stone might be causing him was a distant echo to the anguish in the man’s heart and brain. He had known the man for many standards, through good times and bad, but he had never seen him so distraught.

  “It was not you who murdered my son, my kin, and my friends, Brannon!” snarled Herren Caspari. “It was not you! But those who did shall pay! They and the Seyotah dogs who harbor them!” The look of anger and hate on the clan chief’s face made Brannon cringe. It was the face of a man ready to… kill.

  And why shouldn’t he want to kill? His eldest son had been blasted to atoms by the Newcomers. The boy who Brannon had helped live, the boy who had grown into a fine man who someday might have led the clan after his father, had been killed without a warning, without a chance. Revenge was his father’s right. But it still made Brannon cringe. And the terrible guilt within him made it that much worse. He was the one who had sent young Darien to his death. He had not intended to, but if he had simply done nothing, the boy—and two dozen others—would still be alive.

  And yet… and yet, the sacrifice was not entirely in vain. Surely this proved, beyond a doubt, that the Newcomers were indeed the World Stealers. Thou shalt know them by their violence, said the Book of Life. They kill what the Lifegiver has made as easily as you draw breath.

  “What will you do now, Herren?”

  “I shall crush…!” Caspari shouted and then cut himself off. He took a few deep breaths and was in control again. “The Newcomers have arrived at Panmunaptra,” he said in a calmer voice. “All the clans have demanded access to the Newcomers and the space around has been declared open. Delegations from everywhere will be arriving soon. I plan to go myself along with, Keelen, my… my remaining son and… and see that justice is done.”

  Brannon nodded his head. It was as good a plan as he could see. And with all the clans gathered, perhaps more could be accomplished than Caspari’s vengeance. Yes.

  “With your permission, I would like to come along.”

  * * * * *

  Tad looked through the thick window at the enormous chunk of rock. “Panmunaptra,” he sighed. “I had been really looking forward to coming here, Uncle. But now I wish I was a billion klicks away.”

  “You and me both, Tad. I had such high hopes for this. The opportunities seemed like a dream at first. Now it seems more like a nightmare.”

  “What’s going to happen now, sir?”

  “I don’t know. But thank the Lifegiver, it will be up to the clan leaders and not me to decide!”

  The ship, which seemed very much more like a warship now to Tad than it did at the start of the fateful journey, docked itself to one of the ports on the ends of the slowly rotating asteroid. The rock, which was over six kilometers long and nearly three in diameter, had originally been roughly cylindrical in shape and by cutting here, building on there, it was now sufficiently symmetrical to rotate along its long axis to provide centrifugal gravity. Because of the rotation, it was only possible to dock at the ends, where counter-rotating ports had been built. Felicity latched onto one of the access tubes, amid a flotilla of smaller vessels. The word that the Newcomers were coming here had already spread, and ships from all over the system were either coming or already here. Tad’s own ship, along with the rest of his family, was on its way but would not arrive for another week. He found that he was missing his family a great deal.

  Tad and his uncle packed up their meager belongings and made their way to the ship’s airlock. Captain Frichette met them there, along with Regina and Charles Crawford and other members of the delegation. Tad stared at Crawford. He had not seemed like an evil man when he first met him and he still did not, despite his troll-like stature. But how could he have ordered the deaths of the Clorindan warriors the way he did? And how could Frichette have carried out that order? Regina had tried to explain the ways of her people, but it was hard to believe. How could any people survive when they were so willing to slaughter themselves? But clearly they had and now they were here and they had to be dealt with. Regina came over to them holding a clear bubble helmet.

  “I guess we’re ready to go,” she said. “From what you’ve told us of the environment of Panmunaptra, these should be sufficient to allow us to breathe. The heat is going to cause us some problems after a while, though. If it becomes necessary, I suppose we could use space suits with cooling units.” Tad noticed that Regina was not dressed as revealingly as she had at other meetings and he was glad.

  “I’ve exchanged a few messages with the base administrator to set things up,” said Uncle Jari. “They’ve lowered the temperature in most of the areas you’ll be going into to something you should be able to tolerate. There will be quarters available for your use that are completely suited to you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Farsvar, that’s very kind of you.”

  “Not at all, we have visitors from other clans here all the time. We need to be flexible.”

  “Wonderful. Then I think we should get going.”

  Tad could sense the tension in his uncle. Until the slaughter of the
Clorindans he had been very open and easy-going with the Newcomers, but now he was treating them like an alien life-form which had unexpectedly revealed itself to be far more dangerous than it looked—which exactly described these people, Tad supposed. But it wasn’t just the Newcomers, he knew his uncle was worried about the reception they would receive on Panmunaptra. The word of the slaughter would be all through the system by now. What would the clan leaders’ reaction be? Would they simply order the Newcomers to be off? They might see it as the only way to deflect the wrath of the Clorindans. And that would be the end of the trade agreement and also the end of the Farsvar family’s dreams of prosperity. Tad wasn’t sure how he felt himself. Darn it, he’d liked Regina…

  The Newcomer woman and Uncle Jari rounded up the delegation, which consisted of six people, and herded them into the airlock. Tad was glad that Captain Frichette was not coming along, but he wished Crawford would have stayed behind, too. When the airlock door opened into the docking tube, everyone reminded each other that the ship’s artificial gravity ended there. The transition from full gravity to zero-G was abrupt and odd, but they all managed it without problem. Two of the Newcomers’ delegation seemed to be complaining about the free fall, but the more experienced ones—including Regina—helped them along.

  A small escort, sent by the clan leaders, waited for them at the other end of the tube. They took them to an elevator, which lowered them over a kilometer through the asteroid’s rock to the main level. The spin of the asteroid produced a little over half of a standard G at this distance from the axis of rotation. By the time the elevator reached its destination, everyone was standing comfortably on the floor; even the two who had been complaining seemed at ease. The doors opened and they moved out of the car. Almost immediately, the party of Newcomers stopped short. Tad looked back and was puzzled at the expressions of astonishment on their faces.