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Authors: Stephen Ames Berry
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he wanted to say. Logic, he thought. Good old half-step, Aristotelian logic.
"What if the microfilm shows Maximus to be a clear and deadly danger to us all, Heather? Then will you support my mission?"
"Sure." She turned back to the viewer. "Let's see if there's 'clear and deadly danger.' "
Her slim fingers made a delicate adjustment to the viewer, transforming a blurred diagram into a sharp-featured map of Maximus. "You realize with BOSCO down, UC's sensor ring's gone. They'll have to deploy every chopper, every company to try and protect the technos. Aldridge and his thugs may have to fight their way through turf. God! I'd love to see that!"
"We can't stay here much longer, Colonel," said zur Linde, worriedly eyeing the smoke wafting into the cavernous motorpool.
Aldridge nodded, pacing slowly in front of the four assembled companies, drawn up at parade rest. He glanced at his watch. "We might have ten minutes before the roof drops on us, Erich. If I don't get a recon report from Copley in five minutes, we roll blind." He stopped pacing. "Best mount up."
Zur Linde saluted, then executed a textbook about-face. "Company commanders, move your men into the vehicles," he ordered. No one needed any encouragement, scrambling into the APCs and tanks.
Zur Linde turned back to Aldridge. "What about the detainees, Colonel?"
Two levels below were some three hundred prisoners, the unfortunate Mr. Blackstone among them. Most were being held for interrogation or pending transfer to work camps.
The colonel shrugged, hopefully jiggling his handset. Nothing. "Killed tragically in the fire."
He looked up. "On second thought, have someone get Blackstone out and give him a weapon. He can take his chances with the rest of us. Any man who survived that hell at Shimoda doesn't deserve to die like a smoked rat." He lifted the handset as the German gave the necessary orders.
"Copley. Aldridge. Get me Major Sardon." In a minute he was listening without expression to the Copley commander. "I see, Terry. No, no, I understand. Do what you can. We'll get out.
"Sardon's being forced back, Erich. Most of our choppers are down. It's Der Tag, my friend. Let's roll."
Grim faced, zur Linde ran for his own tank as Aldridge headed for the lead M80, scrambling spryly up its side and down into the turret. Thick, toxic smoke was pouring through the ceiling vents into the motorpool.
Over a hundred armored vehicles coughed to life as the great blast doors atop the ramp swung open. Burning debris showered the column as it gunned up and out, thundering over the dead mines.
Behind them, the roof and upper stories crashed down in slow, booming majesty, a story at a time. The prisoners heard the fiery avalanche coming an eternal moment before it struck. Some screamed, some prayed, some wet themselves—all died. The column snaked down the hill and into the morning.
Heather looked up from the microviewer. "They're mad. Stark, raving mad." She shook her head, still not believing.
"Know anything about quantum mechanics?"
"Black holes, alternate universes, stuff like that?" She nodded.
John shook his head. "Just a dumb spook."
"Yeah, with a Ph.D. in history. Listen, Professor Spook, there's no law of physics mandating the singularity of time or space. And there's some evidence, for those who care to see it, of an infinite series of alternate universes, some alien beyond our comprehension, others possibly different from our own only by my not having said 'possibly.' And if these alternate realities exist, they can be reached, given the right technology."
John nodded. "Based on this," he tapped the viewer, "you think Maximus is a gateway from an alternate reality?"
"Maybe. It's not a natural manifestation. It just appeared, two years ago. A research facility was promptly constructed around it. And judging from the file reports, the crew up there still have no idea what it is—this despite early use of human subjects to probe the phenomenon.
"I mean,
"What if the microfilm shows Maximus to be a clear and deadly danger to us all, Heather? Then will you support my mission?"
"Sure." She turned back to the viewer. "Let's see if there's 'clear and deadly danger.' "
Her slim fingers made a delicate adjustment to the viewer, transforming a blurred diagram into a sharp-featured map of Maximus. "You realize with BOSCO down, UC's sensor ring's gone. They'll have to deploy every chopper, every company to try and protect the technos. Aldridge and his thugs may have to fight their way through turf. God! I'd love to see that!"
"We can't stay here much longer, Colonel," said zur Linde, worriedly eyeing the smoke wafting into the cavernous motorpool.
Aldridge nodded, pacing slowly in front of the four assembled companies, drawn up at parade rest. He glanced at his watch. "We might have ten minutes before the roof drops on us, Erich. If I don't get a recon report from Copley in five minutes, we roll blind." He stopped pacing. "Best mount up."
Zur Linde saluted, then executed a textbook about-face. "Company commanders, move your men into the vehicles," he ordered. No one needed any encouragement, scrambling into the APCs and tanks.
Zur Linde turned back to Aldridge. "What about the detainees, Colonel?"
Two levels below were some three hundred prisoners, the unfortunate Mr. Blackstone among them. Most were being held for interrogation or pending transfer to work camps.
The colonel shrugged, hopefully jiggling his handset. Nothing. "Killed tragically in the fire."
He looked up. "On second thought, have someone get Blackstone out and give him a weapon. He can take his chances with the rest of us. Any man who survived that hell at Shimoda doesn't deserve to die like a smoked rat." He lifted the handset as the German gave the necessary orders.
"Copley. Aldridge. Get me Major Sardon." In a minute he was listening without expression to the Copley commander. "I see, Terry. No, no, I understand. Do what you can. We'll get out.
"Sardon's being forced back, Erich. Most of our choppers are down. It's Der Tag, my friend. Let's roll."
Grim faced, zur Linde ran for his own tank as Aldridge headed for the lead M80, scrambling spryly up its side and down into the turret. Thick, toxic smoke was pouring through the ceiling vents into the motorpool.
Over a hundred armored vehicles coughed to life as the great blast doors atop the ramp swung open. Burning debris showered the column as it gunned up and out, thundering over the dead mines.
Behind them, the roof and upper stories crashed down in slow, booming majesty, a story at a time. The prisoners heard the fiery avalanche coming an eternal moment before it struck. Some screamed, some prayed, some wet themselves—all died. The column snaked down the hill and into the morning.
Heather looked up from the microviewer. "They're mad. Stark, raving mad." She shook her head, still not believing.
"Know anything about quantum mechanics?"
"Black holes, alternate universes, stuff like that?" She nodded.
John shook his head. "Just a dumb spook."
"Yeah, with a Ph.D. in history. Listen, Professor Spook, there's no law of physics mandating the singularity of time or space. And there's some evidence, for those who care to see it, of an infinite series of alternate universes, some alien beyond our comprehension, others possibly different from our own only by my not having said 'possibly.' And if these alternate realities exist, they can be reached, given the right technology."
John nodded. "Based on this," he tapped the viewer, "you think Maximus is a gateway from an alternate reality?"
"Maybe. It's not a natural manifestation. It just appeared, two years ago. A research facility was promptly constructed around it. And judging from the file reports, the crew up there still have no idea what it is—this despite early use of human subjects to probe the phenomenon.
"I mean,
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