Jaunt (45 page)

“Lessons?” Gilmour asked.

“I can’t tell you that. I haven’t learned them either. That is for you to do for the rest of our species.” The Sherpa gestured again. “Come. They want you to see this.”

Gilmour and McKean stood and followed the Sherpa to the center of the spherical chamber. A few meters away, the Sherpa paused on a circular panel inset into the floor.

“You asked where here is?” The Sherpa turned away from the agents and held out his hand. Instantly, the chamber emitted a blinding flash, engulfing them all, becoming a crystalline sphere, in which the trio were now contained. Streamers of light, dwarfing the kaleidoscope of colors the miniaturized glass spheres had displayed earlier, danced and pulsed throughout this sphere, bringing tears of beauty to Gilmour and McKean. Millions of facets radiated and refracted light around, bathing them in pure white illumination. A faint buzz permeated their senses, and the pair looked up to see the fountain of light pouring from the northern pole of the sphere, the same fountain they had leapt into with abandon.

The Sherpa glanced back to the pair. “This is the core of the craft.”

“We’re inside the fountain...inside the metallic sphere....” Gilmour’s voice trailed off; words were inapt in describing his sensory input, which in themselves were inapt to withstand the flood.

“This core,” McKean asked, unwilling to take his eyes off the multitude of facets,

“what is it?”

“Why you are here, I presume. What the world will die for.” The Sherpa walked along the perimeter of the core, then gestured towards the agents. “The jewels you possess, what you have found, all originated here. A facet has been lost, shattered by the accident which brought down this craft.”

As the Sherpa explained, a flash of light was generated before the agents, then condensed into a miniature, floating representation of the crystalline core. An horrific explosion was shown fracturing the core and leaving it bearing a tremendous gouge on one flank.

“The jewels you have—the secret wisdom I gained knowledge of so many years ago

—are all the result of this,” the Sherpa continued. “This sphere that you have been allowed to perceive is a neutron core, the densest matter known to the beings who once inhabited this craft. Its potential is limitless, if employed for purposes of furthering knowledge.”

The agents’ awestruck eyes remained centered on the segment lost from the core, the pair unable to comprehend material such as this having actually been constructed by nature.

“You are the first to successfully return portions of the fractured facet to its home.”

McKean rubbed his temples, trying to grapple with all he had learned about the jewels from the Temporal Retrieve Project. “This core, how—how can we be inside it if its density...?”

The Sherpa smiled at their marveling. “We are everywhere, in every facet, coiled into the numerous higher dimensions no human being could ever see, wrapped inside the core’s quanta, infinitely small.”

McKean looked over his HUD display, which displayed none of this. “Infinitely....”

Gilmour wiped his eyes, finally breaking away from the image in front of them. “Our jaunt jewels....” He turned to the Sherpa.

“Many have possessed some of the jewels in the past,” the Sherpa went on, “but have found them useless, as they cannot refine them...because it is impossible to do so. The accident that split this core was by nature a spacetime rip, and even the most hardy matter cannot withstand the forces of the universe’s fabric itself. The core desperately wants to repair itself, but cannot do so without intervention. And that was why I was brought here, to stand vigil for the time when the human species could overcome the hurdles of repairing the core to its natural state.”

“Then,” Gilmour started, his eyes roaming the confines of this crystalline cage, “it needs the jewels.”

“Yes. They are as much a part of the core as our brain cells are a part of us.”

“But we need our jewels to jaunt home, after we deactivate the
Strela
s!” McKean yelled, the passion in his voice returning after being rendered dull by the sensory pacification.

Gilmour stared straight at the Sherpa. “McKean’s right. We have a duty.”

“No.” The Sherpa shook his head, scolding them like children. “You have a lesson to learn. Humanity must learn.”

McKean raised his fisted gauntlet. “To hell with this lesson!! This ship has sat on the bottom of the world for two hundred years! I’m sure it can wait a few more until we take care of the Confederation!”

The Sherpa gritted his teeth. “Children...we are still children.”

Gilmour stepped closer to the Sherpa. “Take us back, allow us to do our duty and we’ll try to do what’s right for this core.”

A series of concentric ripples suddenly rang throughout the core, catching the attention of Gilmour and McKean, who dropped their argument with the Sherpa and turned towards the faceted walls. The ripples ringed along the edges of the core, harmonizing as they swept through the crystalline sphere.

“What’s that?” McKean shouted, straining his neck inside his helmet.

The Sherpa inhaled deeply, sadly. “Gravimetric distortions in the trench water. The core is highly sensitive to any breaks in the spacetime continuum.”

Gilmour and McKean instantly toggled their interfaces and activated their instruments. “I’m not picking up anything,” McKean reported.

“Neither am I.” Gilmour lowered his left arm and turned to the Sherpa. “Please, tell us what’s happening.”

The Sherpa extended his hand and placed it on the surface of the rippling core.

“Foreign objects are proceeding to the trench bottom. Two have descended three thousand, five hundred and nine meters. Two more are one thousand, five hundred meters behind.”

Gilmour and McKean locked eyes. Both shouted, “The warheads!” Immediately, the two agents switched their HUDs to full activation, readying their haz systems for the mission.

“How do we get out of here?” Gilmour asked the crestfallen Sherpa.

The Sherpa finally returned his gaze to the agents. “You don’t understand one word I have uttered, have you? There is a lesson that must be taught, and this is the beginning. Their weapons are powerful, yes, but won’t begin to harm this craft. You two are the first to come this far. The core will not allow both of you to be distracted from the completion of its lattice.”

McKean nearly spat. “People will die!”

“Not if you learn the lesson,” the Sherpa countered.

Knowing this impasse could not go on forever, Gilmour searched his mind for a solution, a way out. His heart beating, and adrenaline pumping, his forehead glistened with sweat before blurting out, “What’s the lesson?!”

“I do not know. I cannot know until it has begun.”

“Then let us deactivate the
Strela
s,” Gilmour said again, “and make that the lesson!”

The Sherpa shook his head. “No. Both of you will cease to live if you attempt to deactivate the foreign objects, these
Strela
, and the lesson will never be learned.”

Gilmour banged his gauntlets together and lunged forward, practically falling on his knees to beg, “Then split us up...one of us to stop them, the other to begin the lesson!” He tilted his head towards McKean. “Neil will stay. I’ll go and deactivate the warheads.”

McKean narrowed his eyes in dismay. “James?!”

“That would be acceptable,” the Sherpa quickly acquiesced.

“Dammit, Gilmour, no!” McKean pleaded. “We go as a team!”

Gilmour pointed his finger. “That’s an order, Agent McKean.”

“Fuck that, Gilmour!” McKean crossed over to the other agent and shoved a gauntlet into Gilmour’s chest. “I still hold the best time for deactivating the warheads...if we don’t go as a team, you’ll get yourself killed on the first one. I’d be back inside in no time.”

“Neil, don’t countermand—”

“Choose him for the lesson!” McKean shouted to the Sherpa, interrupting Gilmour.

“I’ll jaunt out there and do what I’m best at!”

“Neil!” Gilmour protested again, but his cry was refused by the Sherpa, who said simply, “The core will allow you to return to the trench.”

“Thank you.” McKean stepped back from Gilmour and toggled his holographic interface, beginning the jaunt procedures.

“Keanie....” Gilmour looked to his partner, the last tie to the old group at the IIA.

“Take care of yourself out there.”

Special Agent Neil McKean input his last known coordinates into his haz suit’s computer before looking back once more to his friend and colleague. Raising his right hand, he sent Gilmour a quick salute and said, “I’ve never disappointed you yet, have I?”

With that, Gilmour took a deep breath and watched McKean lower his faceplate, then tap his interface. The agent steadied himself as a swirling vortex pierced his chest and, within the margin of a second, engulfed him in the Casimir jaunt effect, sucking McKean out of Gilmour’s timeframe.

Gilmour blinked several times...McKean was really gone. He finally turned to the Sherpa after the short repose and asked, “Now, about this lesson.”

Water boiled and burned as a form, newly emerged and invigorated, materialized into the turquoise depths. The human figure shielded his eyes from the stellar whiteness permeating the ocean water, then swiveled in the buoyant medium, extending a left arm.

“Activate lidar guidance,” Neil McKean commanded his haz suit’s computer, which obeyed and instantly brought up the circular target on his HUD. The agent swept the fountain-lit waters of the trench with his lidar cannon, then spoke, “Begin scanning for gravimetric disturbances.”

Only a second passed before McKean’s ears picked up a single “ping” on his HUD, which was closely followed by another. “Locate source of disturbance.” A number block appeared to the right of his lidar target, giving coordinates and rapidly shifting metric distances of the two descending disturbances. “Visual.” A second window opened above this number block, showing two flashing red cylinders, slowly rotating after exhausting their fuel.

McKean smiled. “Gotcha, you little bastards.” He glanced at the distance marker for the nearest target: 0006.116 Ms, then the second: 0006.852 Ms. An additional window at the HUD’s top left displayed the supercavitating engine systems. “Activate supercavitating engine, set for burst of one point five seconds.” With the appropriate systems at the ready, McKean set the nozzles to direct him to the first and lowest
Strela
, commanding, “Launch now!”

In a split-second, a small blast of carbon dioxide was released from his sled’s outtake barrel, forming a bubble over his helmet. A heartbeat later, he was propelled forward with a powerful burst from the hydrazine nozzles.

McKean rocketed upwards and swiftly met the first foreign object his sensors had easily spotted: a two-meter-long
Strela
warhead descending nose-first just centimeters from his haz suit. His gauntlets reached out and grappled the heavy mechanism; securing himself to it, he re-oriented himself head-first, his helmet lamp highlighting small, handstenciled Cyrillic letters warning of the danger of this device. He let out a sardonic chuckle as he crawled to the nosecone. Reaching around his torso belt, he opened up a small tool bag, producing a pass key and a narrow wrench that he applied to the interlock on the nosecone sheath, prying it ajar. He swiped the pass key through the housing’s microlock and removed the red and yellow fluorescent foil off the cylindrical radiation housing, revealing the Casimir systems, the neutron fuel, and the adjacent QPU.

Glancing to his HUD’s right-hand side, he checked the counter tracking his progress, then promptly put the ticked-off seconds in the back of his mind. He toggled the interface on his left gauntlet, which sounded a pre-programmed EM frequency, emitting a small harmonic squeak aimed at the QPU’s blue disk. A chirp a second later signaled a positive response.

McKean checked his descent rate and distance, then replaced the nosecone sheath as he found it. Next, he jumped off the finished warhead and watched it slowly sink into the depths, soon disappearing into the dark sediments below.

Turning his back, McKean caught sight of the second warhead and repeated his docking maneuver. A stubborn lock kept McKean from beating his previous time, but the delay was enough for his HUD’s lidar guidance to flash a warning that he was within eight meters of the trench floor. Pulling out all the stops, McKean ripped off the radiation hood’s housing foil, banking that once the warhead went off, nobody would be the wiser. He closed the nosecone sheath just in time to see the seafloor reflect his lamplight, and pushing himself free, let the
Strela
drift beneath him. With a quick burst of his hydrazine, McKean killed his descending inertia and witnessed the warhead carve out a small crater just meters from its predecessor.

Now at a safe distance from the seafloor, McKean consulted his holographic interface for the locations of the second pair of
Strela
s the core had detected as gravimetric disturbances. Allowing his HUD to calculate for a moment, the hologram sounded two “pings.”

“Location,” he commanded his voice response computer.