The Deep Dark Well Page 18

  “So it’s time to get the hell out of this area,” she said, heading for the train tube. The doors opened as she approached, and closed soundlessly behind her. She took a seat by the door as she thought for a second.

  “How do I start this thing?”

  “Simply state your destination,” said a voice in the chamber. The car computer, waiting for who knew how long for someone to again take advantage of its service.

  “Just move down the line,” she ordered. “Spinward. Until I order you to stop.”

  The car started to move immediately, slowly at first, with no apparent motion. Acceleration began to pick up as it went through the first tunnel. She knew the car would accelerate with gee forces enough to crush her into a pulp if not for its compensators. She would make a fortune if she were able to just bring that technology back to her time. But there didn’t seem to be any way back.

  Pandi pulled the nearly empty drum from her rifle, placing it carefully in her backpack as she drew out a new one. It clicked easily into place, and the readouts on the rifle showed that all loads were full.

  Now the car moved out into a huge chamber, much like those that had contained the magnetic field generators and power transformers she had seen on her earlier ride. But this chamber was mostly empty space, thousands of cubic kilometers of it. Mostly, but not all.

  It took her a second to adjust to the scale of the great ships that were docked in this chamber. Then the scale took hold, even as her mind refused to believe in ships over twenty kilometers in length.

  “Are they functional?” she asked the station computer.

  “All of the ships in this particular docking facility are fully functional, fueled and charged with energy,” said the computer.

  “Would I be able to operate one?”

  “You would not be able to use the ship to its complete abilities,” said the computer. “Not without pilot training.”

  “So how do I train to become a pilot?”

  “An hour in the simulator aboard the ship, as well as implanted memories, would qualify you as a pilot.”

  “But I would be able to use a ship without pilot training?”

  “All of the commercial vessels are able to operate to voice command,” said the computer. “The military ships within some of the other docking facilities will not operate without the proper access code.”

  “And you can’t give me that code.”

  “Correct. Only override by sentient authority can allow access to military codes.”

  The room continued on, with ships of various sizes scattered here and there. The largest was easily thirty kilometers in length, the smallest about the size of the private launches used in her time to traverse the inner planets.

  “What happened to all the people?” she asked suddenly, almost afraid to hear the answer. Silence was the answer.

  “Are you not allowed to give me that information as well?”

  “Access to that information is restricted.”

  It must have been something bizarre, she thought. All of the billions of people inhabiting this station, the center of the civilized Galaxy, gone. The whole of the civilized Galaxy fallen into barbarism. Only now beginning to climb back out and up. While the station was still in perfect condition, as if the people had just left yesterday. Of course the robots could have kept the station in order, especially under the stewardship of Watcher. Had there indeed been massive damage during whatever event had taken the people? Damage that had been repaired by the machines. Had there been bodies, which the robots had taken away for disposal. Were they buried decently? Or were they incinerated? Or tossed through wormhole gates to disappear from the Universe as they knew it.

  Or had they simply left? Had there been a threat to the station that caused every sentient creature to leave the center of the civilized Galaxy? Every sentient creature but Watcher and Vengeance. Where did they figure in this mystery? Watcher might tell her, if she ever found him again.

  She would find him again, if she had to search the whole station. She now felt confident in her ability to survive. And is she didn’t, she would go down fighting.

  Chapter 14

  Task Force 48 will enter the Supersystem at all speed, heading Galactic coordinates Zero, Zero, Zero. The artifact known as the Donut is to be boarded and any available technology is to be returned to the home stars of the Nations of Humanity. Any and all risks are acceptable in order to accomplish the mission.

  Nation of Humanity Special Order 238.7

  “Release the specials,” ordered Admiral Miklas Gerasi. The weapons officer checked one last time to be sure the programs were in place and functioning perfectly.

  “Release the specials,” said the com officer on the circuit to the rest of the squadron.

  On each ship two three hundred meter long cylinders detached from the lower hull. Inertialess drives moved them slowly into position, until all twenty two cylinders hung motionless in space a dozen kilometers in front of the lead ship of the squadron.

  The bars on the magnetic field indicators on the ships rose, as each of the specials encased itself in a powerful shield of field lines. Moments later the nozzles on the sides of each special began to spew a shimmering liquid mass into space. The mass flowed along the magnetic field lines, kept away from the cylinders while totally encasing them. Soon the negative matter shells were complete, as the space destroying drives of each special powered up.

  “Five, four, three, two, one,” counted the chief tactical officer.

  The specials disappeared from view, as their drives destroyed narrow swathes of space, recreating it behind them, moving them at a pseudo speed a hundred times faster than light. Homing in as well as they could on their targets.

  “I wish we could see what’s happening,” complained the admiral. But though the weapons were heading toward their targets faster than light, the ships would not be able to assess their effects until the crawl of light speed information came back to their sensors.

  * * *

  The dozen graviton generators were the targets of the specials, two to each of ten generators, one each to the remaining two. Of course they would not all reach their targets. The accuracy of the guidance systems controlling the space destroying drives were not that finely tuned. There was no need for them to be, when the drive covered distances so quickly that even the fastest computer couldn’t control resumption of normal space within more than a couple of million kilometers. Still some reached their targets, while others came near enough to threaten.

  * * *

  “Warning,” stated the computer. Vengeance jumped up from the chair he had been sitting in. His daydreams had tended toward what he would do to the human female when she was caught. Sadistic dreams of sexual satisfaction. For him at least. She would fulfill the masochistic part of the equation.

  If she was caught. So far she had proven that one willing to destroy had the advantage over those who could only capture.

  “Warning,” stated the computer again, as the holo sprung to life. Vengeance peered closely at the cylinders in front of the ships. Oversized torpedoes. With shimmering shells of negative matter moving into place. FTL torpedoes.

  “Lock graviton beams on those objects,” he ordered, already sure he was too late. If the beams could lock onto the torpedoes, they might be able to hold them in place while they activated their drives. Which would cause them to destroy themselves, unable to withstand the forces pulling at them in two different directions.

  With a flare of light they were gone. Vengeance cursed to himself. They would take out part of his defensive screen. Part, but he was sure not all.

  “Open wormhole viewers at all graviton generators,” he ordered. “Track any object moving near the generators not in the catalog and fire at will.”

  A dozen small holos opened around the room, each showing a quick pan of space around each generator. The main holo panned out from the station, covering the Donut. Vengeance was worried about what damage they might do to h
is abode, any which missed their primary target.

  * * *

  Three of the torpedoes intersected their targets, the space destroying drives warping the structure of the huge generators. Superhard alloys flowed like water for kilometers around the warpage. Hard radiation flared out, destroying machinery and circuitry the length of the long cylinders. The torpedoes flared as they disrupted under the intersection of space destroying drive and converted to energy, small particles of matter blasting into space at near light speed. Neutrons, protons, and electrons flared up and down through the cylinders of the graviton generators. They mixed with the anti-protons and positrons of the antimatter warheads and drive fuel, adding more neutrons and gamma radiation to the mix.

  Molten matter and energy blew out large areas of the sides of the generators, leaving gutted cylinders falling out of their stable orbits.

  One of the torpedoes continued too far and intersected the hole. The torpedo blew back into normal space near the event horizon, a mass of energy and particles. The hole didn’t even notice such a minute display of power, sucking all particles into its great mass, to disappear from the Universe.

  A great freighter broke up from a torpedo going through its space. The space destroying drive smashed it to pieces, though its mass was too small to affect the course of the torpedo. Another torpedo was not so fortunate, nor was the enormous space station that it tried to share space with. Station, docked ships and torpedo went up in a tremendous explosion that filled space with an ever-expanding cloud of debris.

  Seventeen of the torpedoes entered normal space without mishap. Each got its bearing using the gravitation beacon of the hole, their computers working swiftly to find its location and plot the course to the nearest target. Two entered space within several million kilometers of their targets, inertialess drives kicking in and propelling them forward at thousands of gees, repositioning their negative matter shields in a conglomeration before the bows of the weapons.

  The on board sensors of the two graviton beams in question picked up the nearby torpedoes. The ponderous structures started to turn slowly in space. Too slowly.

  A torpedo plowed into the center of one of the graviton beam projectors. The ball of negative matter preceded it, striking the outer surface of the projector. Matter and negative matter canceled each other out. A hole appeared in the outer surface through which the torpedo drove. Immediately inside it impacted machinery. The antimatter warhead detonated, turning one hundred kilograms of antimatter and a hundred kilograms of matter into fast moving neutrons and gamma radiation. The remaining twenty kilograms of antimatter in the space destroying drive went off milliseconds later. Within seconds the explosive force had spread for kilometers up and down the cylinder.

  The great graviton projector shuddered under the violence of the explosion. But it remained intact, capable of self-repairing, given time.

  The second torpedo was not so fortunate as its brothers. Accidents happen, and the rupture of the engine containment field, while it was still thousands of kilometers from its target, was a statistical probability for devices such as it. Antimatter and matter combined into energy as the torpedo blasted apart, setting off the warhead. Particles of matter and energy flew out in all directions. Because of the momentum of the torpedo, more matter flew toward the target. Negative matter and matter canceled out along the way as they touched. Still the side of the graviton projector was pelted by a thin sleet of fast moving particles. Gamma radiation penetrated, causing minor damage to the internal machinery.

  The other fifteen torpedoes came into normal space far from their targets. Fast as they could move, sensory systems picked them up faster. Graviton beams, lasers and particle beams reached out and snuffed them from existence one by one, until the threat was eliminated.

  * * *

  “Dammit to hell,” swore Vengeance, as he watched the destruction of the three graviton projectors, followed by the crippling of the two others. He still had seven in service, enough to cover his perimeter. Maybe he should reach out and pull some of the ships within range of the Neutronium Ball function of the projectors.

  “Ships are beginning to turn,” said the computer. Sure enough, he could see them in the holo, rotating, changing orientation until the ships were all pointed bow outwards, away from the Donut.

  “Lock all available beams on the closest of the vessels,” ordered Vengeance. “I want to give them an abject lesson.”

  “Preparing graviton generators for operation,” said the computer. “But they will not be in that location much longer.”

  Vengeance could see what the computer was talking about, as the negative matter streams came out of the ships’ pylons and were pulled into the shells needed to protect material objects from the gravitational fluxes of the matter destroying drive.

  “Lock established,” said the computer. One of the ships jerked back, accelerating toward the Donut. Then it was gone in a flash of light. The other ships followed suit, until there was nothing within range.

  “The ship broke free of the lock,” said the computer.

  “Do you have their location?”

  “Impossible to determine location at this time,” said the machine. “Nature of drive makes it difficult to predict final resting space of vessel using space destroying drive to move.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do to find them?”

  “Standard scans will reveal their location in time,” said the computer. “Opening and closing wormhole viewers at statistically significant random locations may lead to an earlier view.”

  “Then do so, dammit,” yelled Vengeance. “I want them found before they launch another such attack.”

  Damn, he thought again. What if they try to get their ships close to the Donut using the same tactic? According to what he had just seen some might be destroyed, and some might end up far enough away from the station to be disposed of safely. But some would reach the proximity of the station. Close enough to board? Close enough to threaten his existence? Thoughts of Pandora Latham and the pleasure he had planned retreated to the back of his mind, as paranoia reigned in the mind of the immortal creature.

  * * *

  Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta spit the mouthpiece out as the liquid in the cylinder receded below his chin. He had always hated the rubbery taste of the mouthpieces. But it had served its purpose, allowing the Danaus to decelerate thirty gravities past the range of her inertial compensators, so she and her sisters would stop well short of the Donut.

  That has always been the problem, he thought. His people could build engines that could propel material objects at thousands of gravities of acceleration. But they were limited by the ability of their inertial compensators to damp more than fifty gravities, and the human body to handle more than four for any extended length of time. Better than their enemy’s tech. But they knew better had existed in the past. That was why his Kingdom needed the Donut, or at least to be able to deny it to their foes.

  Krishnamurta dried off quickly and changed into a comfortable uniform, before exiting his day cabin and walking onto the bridge. He had seen the representation of the attack on the Donut by the ships of the Nation. But the data had not yet been analyzed while he was in the tube.

  “Admiral on the bridge,” called out the navigation officer, just getting into his seat to spring back to attention. Only half of the bridge crew were at their posts. The others were still in the locker room cubby, changing into dry uniforms. The medicinal smell of the liquid used in the acceleration tubes permeated the room, despite the best efforts of the environmental system to clean the air.

  “Report,” ordered the admiral, as he took his own seat and the rest of the crew turned full attention to their stations.

  “It seems that the Nation ships fired torpedoes with their space destroying drives toward the Donut,” said the tactical officer. “The Donut is still intact, though I doubt they would have the resources to do it too much damage.”

  “Probably trying to
knock out some of its defenses,” said the captain.

  Yes, thought Nagara. And the Nation had the kind of technology they didn’t. Oh, Surya’s inertialess hyperlight drive was more advanced than the space destroying drive, much more efficient in its use of energy, though still an enormous drain of resources. And it was much safer. Ships equipped with Surya’s version of interstellar drive were able to build up to much greater velocities than those using space destroying drive. But it took time for the ships to build up to light speed and beyond, while space destroying drive instantaneously propelled their ships into a pseudo-speed far beyond light.

  And now the Nation vessels were equipped with torpedoes deploying the same space destroying drives.

  “Did the Nation of Humanity ships suffer any damage at the hands of the Donut?” he asked.

  “They seem to have warped out soon after the attack,” said the science officer. “Of course our information is still a couple of hours out of date, and will only improve when we reach the proximity of the station.”

  “I want passive sensors on all vessels to sweep the area to our front,” ordered the admiral. “As soon as we reach our terminus I want all actives to go to full power. I don’t want them to know we’re coming. But I want to know where they are.”

  Nagara could read the expressions on the faces of the bridge crew. He could imagine the expletives that were flying around the bridges of the other ships in the squadron. He was asking the impossible of them. Only to keep their own presence secret, while pinpointing the enemy location. But his ships were stealthy, much more so than the warships of his enemies. His electronic suites were much more sophisticated. And his weapons more powerful. If he could get within optimum beam weapon range before they knew he was there, he could cripple half their squadron before they could react. A very big if.

  The admiral sat his chair, hands gripping the armrests, as he let his crew go about their business. They knew what to do, and were very interested in doing their jobs well. Since doing them poorly might lead to a disastrous end of the mission.