Bayley, Barrington J - Novel 10 (21 page)

 
          
The
whole ship was in a state of blood-curdling fright, which in the direction of
the ballroom was like a thick, clotted mass.

 
          
Quickly
he spoke to the two boys, pointing down the corridor. "Something bad is
happening. Go, and hide yourselves."

 
          
Trixa
looked bewildered. Sinbiane, attuned to his uncle's perceptions, and used to
obeying him instantly, tugged at his friend, urging him to run.

 
          
A
kosho
facing danger without his
weapons ... he truly had let himself be put at a disadvantage, Ikematsu thought
wryly; and for a second time, and for the same cause.

 
          
Stealth
would be called for, until he could obtain new weapons . . . Gruwert, he
thought then, might know where his own armoury was stored. The pig might be
prevailed upon to divulge . . .

 
          
As
he turned towards the door, it opened and Pout emerged, blinking. Ikematsu's
gaze lit upon him, then upon the two boys running down the corridor, then to
the end of the corridor.

 
          
Not
long previously he had fleetingly observed threadlike lines in the air, barely
visible. He had taken them for hallucination, a by-product of his mental
concentration on radiated thought. But now, approaching from the far end of the
corridor,
came what looked like a horizontal grid of glistening
metal rods. They seemed to move slowly at first, their tips lurching forward,
now some in advance, now others, but suddenly they accelerated. The two running
boys were momentarily transfixed, and in the same instant they vanished. Then
Pout was touched, and vanished.

 
          
The
rods speared through Ikematsu. He felt nothing, but from the blackness that enveloped
him he knew that he, too, had vanished.

 
 
          
Electric
force differs from other forces in having two forms, which conventionally are
called positive and negative. Particles bearing the same form of electric
charge repel one another, but those bearing opposite charges attract one
another.

 
          
Actually
there is
only one fundamental symmetry
in nature, and
this is the symmetry of left- and right-handedness. 'Charge symmetry' is
related to this; it arises because there may be two directions of spin about
any axis.

 
          
Electric
charge originates to begin with when particles within the Hubble sphere are
prevented from receding from one another at their natural rate. This puts
strain on the recession lines acting between them. The 'thwarted recession'
finds its outlet by adopting an angular component. The angular action of all
'strain' lines taken together is called 'pseudo-spin.' In some ways these
'strain lines' act like lines of force with quasi-material properties. They can
even be thought of as 'wrapping around' the particles, though this is not what
happens.

 
          
To
begin with the charge that is thus created is attached to pre-existing
particles, but the 'strain space' so created is also capable of generating its
own entities consisting purely of electric charge. These are positrons and
electrons.

 
          
Pseudospin
is not like the spin that could be possessed by a material body. To the
charged particle itself it would seem that the whole Hubble sphere is rotating
around it, not on one axis but on all axes simultaneously. Another strange
difference between pseudospin and the spin of a material body is that its sense
is absolute, not relative to the observer. If a material disk is set rotating
it will appear to be spinning clockwise if looked at from one side but
anticlockwise if looked at from the other. Pseudospin, however, will appear to
have the same sense of rotation no matter from which side it is looked at.
Negative charge will always appear to be clockwise, and positive charge will
always appear to be anticlockwise.

 
          
Think
for a moment what this means. In effect whenever two charged particles interact
each selects a direction of spin for the other. Take two electrons. Each electron
will look at the other and see clockwise pseudospin. However, seen
objectively, i.e. from the standpoint of a third party, the spins that each has
selected for the other will be contrary. Likewise an electron will select
anticlockwise pseudo-spin for a proton but the proton will select clockwise
pseudospin for the electron. Seen objectively, these spins, though subjectively
contrary, have the same sense. Hence it transpires that the rule for electric
force is that like attracts like and unlikes repel one another—the opposite of
how it appears superficially.

 
          
Once
the principle of pseudospin is understood it is easy to see how magnetism
arises. You have already seen how tilting a spinning gyroscope produces
'gyroscopic action' in which an applied force is turned through a right angle.
Every charged particle has attached to it a pseudospin 'gyroscope' the size of
the Hubble sphere. Moving the particle is equivalent to tilting that gyroscope
. . .

 
          
(From
How the World Works,
a physics primer
for young people)

 
          
Under
the vast spans of
Archway
City
all apparently was at peace. The sky
boulevards, beneath which gentle clouds floated, sparkled brilliant as ever.
The levitating balconies which were the city's public transport system rose and
descended with the same air of leisure. And the air fizzed as ever, laden as it
was with billions of tiny popping bubbles containing a mix of psychotropics and
pure oxygen.

 
          
But
within that tranquil architectural grandiosity was an atmosphere of uncertainty
and dismay. Imperial Council Member Koutroubis sat in his study, his head in
his hands. The study, occupying a location a mile high in one of the shining
arches, was open to the air; through its broad windows drifted the cheering bubble
fizz, carried on a warm breeze. But it failed to lift the spirits of
Koutroubis.

 
          
What
was he going to tell the Methorians?

 
          
They
were impatient to depart, waiting only for the data he had promised. But he had
been unable to contact the science team that was supposed to be working on the
problem of the space rent, or even to ascertain whether it existed!

 
          
He
felt so helpless!

 
          
There
was news of disorder in many parts of Diadem, of fighting, even, between
Biotists and those loyal to the Council, though he didn't really believe there
could have been serious violence. Still, it was lucky they had not brought in
the two Star Force fleets, as had been planned. With one on the side of the
Council and one on the side of the Biotists, well . . .

 
          
He
lifted his head in surprise at a banging noise from the direction of the outer
door. He heard footsteps in the corridor. Then there barged into the study a
lean, agile-looking boar
who
stopped and darted his
gaze ferociously from side to side. Behind him came several more animals and
one human, a tall, pale young man in a red cloak.

 
          
The
boar was Zheikass, Under-Secretary of the Home Star Department and effectively
the administrator of affairs in Diadem. The young man was Heskios, a Council
Member of junior rank but with no role, as far as Koutroubis could recall, in
the Home Star Department. Koutroubis was puzzled. He also recognised two
animals beside Zheikass: they were high-ranking civil servants too.

 
          
Blankly
he addressed his fellow Council member. "Why, Heskios! What are you doing
here?"

 
          
The
other coloured slightly. But his gaze remained stony.

 
          
Zheikass
spoke, in a stormy squeal.
"Councillor,
you are under arrest!"

 
          
Stunned,
Koutroubis rose to his feet. Stuttering, he spoke again to Heskios.

 
          
"Are
you really a party to this?"

 
          
"I
happen to believe they are right, sir," Heskios replied stiffly.

 
          
"And
you,
Zheikass." Koutroubis
turned his gaze to the pig. "I never realized
you
were a Whole-Earth-Biotist."

           
The boar, already a large animal,
seemed to swell even larger. He glared in outrage.

 
          
"Don't
you dare call
me
a Biotist!" he
rasped.

 
          
In
his grief Archier stumbled as he made his way through achingly empty
concourses, ruined salons, wide echoing corridors from which bodies had been
lately cleared. The air -of dereliction was complete. It was as if the
flagship, indeed the whole fleet, drifted unmanned.

 
          
In
fact most of the crew
were
huddled in their quarters.
The orgy of destruction was over, curbed by Ragshok when the two factions among
the raiders—formerly defeated rebels, who felt some moral compunction, and
outright pirates, who felt none—had begun fighting one another. Much life had
been saved thereby, though the wanton killing of animals, which none of the Escorians
seemed to recognise as fellow beings, had continued apace.

 
          
The
helplessness of the ship's crew, once the raiders got aboard, had been
nightmarish. No one was armed; even the commandos had been unable to reach
their armouries. Still, they had managed to put up a resistance. Many an enemy
had fallen to tooth and claw, though in the end this had resulted in savage
reprisals.

 
          
He
swayed, at the top of a gentle slope that led down to what had been, to all
intents and purposes, an open-air cafe, bathed in sunlight, a blue sky above.
The
sunlamp, the hologrammed sky, were
smashed. Tables
were overturned and bore the dark stains of dried blood.

 
          
Suddenly
two figures emerged from the interior of the cafe and began to mount the slope.
They were Ragshok's men. On their heads were the stolen hats of staff officers.
Swarthy muscled bodies showed through skimpy wraps made of animal pelts. Both
wore tawny close-fitting pants—lionskin, probably—and carried their scanguns
insolently over their loins, like codpieces.

 
          
Clearly
they had been sampling what the cafe had to offer, for they walked unsteadily
as they came up to Archier.

 
          
"Eh,
it's the Admiral," slurred one.
"Howdy,
A'm'ral."

 
          
The
other grabbed Archier by the
arm,
swung him round and
raised a fist to hit him in the face.
"Whatcha doin'
still alive, Admiral?"

 
          
"Leave him alonef"

 
          
The
peremptory female voice rang out, causing the pirate to jerk round in surprise.
Hesper Positana came striding from the other end of the cafe area. Boldly she
climbed the slope and waved the two men back.

 
          
"Clear
out, or Ragshok will hear of it."

 
          
The
sight of her black and silver uniform seemed to have an effect on them. One
grinned sheepishly.

 
          
"All
right, sister, keep your vest on."

 
          
The
phrase was opaque to Archier. He allowed the girl to lead him down the ramp.
Behind him, his assailants passed on.

 
          
"You'd
be safer in your quarters," Hesper told him. "Those two might have
killed you if I hadn't happened along."

 
          
"This
is my fleet," Archier said stubbornly.
"My
ship."
He sighed. "They killed my adjutant," he said
blankly. "He was such a nice little chap."

 
          
"I'm
sorry."

 
          
"What
are you sorry for?" Archier said dolefully. "You've won. This is what
you wanted."

 
          
"You'll
have to believe me when I say that I never wanted what I've seen happen here.
We fought to get you Imperials off
our necks, that's
all.
So as not to have to let our best men and women be
carried off to Diadem.
Not to have your fleets hovering over our heads
threatening to blast us all."

 
          
"It
looks like you'll have that. But in the process Diadem is going to be ripped
apart by these people. It's going to be ghastly."

 
          
She
looked at him sharply. "You mean you can't defend.
yourselves
?"

 
          
He
shook his head. "Diadem is wide open. It's completely defenceless."

 
          
"But
what about the other fleets?"

 
          
"They
are out in the Empire. They've been ordered to stay out of Diadem, as a matter
of fact. There's ... a political crisis there."

 
          
She
was silent for a while. "Look," she said at length, "for what
it's worth to you, I haven't got any time for these characters. Ragshok's
people are just scum. Shipwreckers ... the ironic thing is, it's the fleets
that have prevented us from clearing the spacelanes of these pirates, by not
letting us have proper policing forces of out own . . . And though the others
wear the same uniform as myself, I don't feel a part of them. They're the dregs
of the rebel forces, the garbage."

           
She stopped in her tracks.
"Why, I've seen them rape
children."

 
          
Despite
himself, Archier smiled. "I doubt if what you saw was rape," he said.