“We have full dilation and stability,” Rocardo reported from below, “All boards read green. Reception tugs are positioning. T minus thirteen and counting to projected barge entry and acquisition.”
“Very good. Maintain monitoring. Stand by for reception.”
For the moment all of the action was taking place out at Wolf 359. Tarrischall and his gang would be busy popping the sixty-thousand-metric-ton transfer barge into their end of the hole.
“End” was a purely subjective reference, of course. While the actual state of existence within the wormhole could be described mathematically, it could not be visualized by a mind designed to operate in three dimensions. On one level, the concept of “distance”
had become irrelevant within the perimeter grid of the gate, all points within its contained “universe” being equidistant. On another, it was time that was irrelevant and all of the space between Wolf 359 and Sol still existed, the materials in transit being dispersed across those quadrillions of kilometers.
However, even locked within this trans-state, individual atoms still maintained inertia.
The barge’s entry momentum would be enough to carry it through the region of irrelevancy from one “end” of the hole to the other.
Emerging Earthside, the barge’s systems would reintegrate and it would be recovered for unloading.
Simple and foolproof.
“All pushers unbound and clear,” Marrun reported. On the far viewers, the pusher units could be seen scurrying away from the massive cargo raft, propulsor vents glowing brightly. The raft was on its own now.
“Voice-of-Physics?”
“The channel is smooth,” Narisara replied, using the formalism. “The river flows between the stars.”
“Voice-of-Raft-Guidance?”
“The raft obeys on all standards. Ready to voyage.”
“Very well. All Voices, stand by for transit-of-channel. Varess, send her through.”
On the far viewers, a double belt of dazzling sparks flared into existence at the bow and stern of the cargo raft as its own vents lit. Ever so slowly it began to gain way, the propulsors struggling to inch its bulk forward into the mouth of the perimeter grid.
“Raft entry velocity to first level… second level… third level…” Varess chanted. “Drift remains null on all vectors… fourth level… fifth…”
Tarrischall tried to keep his attention focused on the raft. It wasn’t easy with the black sphere of the channel mouth tugging seductively at the edge of his vision. The Ecstasy-of-the-Great-Dark-Current they called it. That near overwhelming urge felt by some of the People to take that longest dive down the channel. Tarrischall often felt the tug himself.
The dream of doing so and surviving, of reaching the exotic and mysterious world of the Uprights and beyond was a favorite theme of the spinners of projection fictions.
Tarrischall enjoyed such yarns and in spite of what Narisara and the other joy-smashing Voices-of-Physics might say, he was certain that someday a technology would be found to permit a living being to ride the currents to another star.
Varess’ sudden sharp warning cry shattered his musing. “This-Voice-speaks-warning! I have a massive flow net fluctuation aboard the raft! Performance variance across all patterns!”
“Define!” Tarrischall barked, his head snapping down to his display bubble and to the suddenly racing data lines.
“No definition isolated! Generalized flow failure in onboard energy matrix! Shifting to crisis alternative flow!”
Tarrischall gave himself the briefest of instants for consideration. The cargo raft was still stable and gaining velocity as per the set transfer pattern and all functions aboard it had safety duplicates and automatic switch overs. Yet there was a major function collapse going on within the massive vehicle, something beyond anything he had ever seen before.
He could not risk the River-’Tween-Worlds! He slapped the alarm pad at his side triggering the rising tri-toned wail of the Danger-And-Rally call within all the chambers of the skynest.
“All Voices! Abort the shift! Abort! Raft Guidance, decelerate! Pusher Guidance, position for recapture! Mender and Mooring Gangs prepare! I speak with Voice-of-Crisis!”
“Decelerating!” Varess cried back. “Alternative functions engaged! Braking vents engaged! Drift vectors holding stable. Entry velocity reducing to sixth level… fifth… fourth…
On the far viewer display the vector of the raft’s propulsor vents altered, thrusting forward. The huge freight hauler was losing velocity, but slowly, so slowly. There was so much mass out there to stop.
The blunt curved nose of the raft was approaching the mouth of the perimeter grid.
Maybe it would have been better to trust the duplicate functions and run her through, Tarrischall thought feverishly, but it was too late to bother about it now. They were committed.
“Velocity now third level… second…”
On the main display the double ring of scintillating propulsor vents flickered and went dark.
Varess’ voice rose into a strangled scream. “Alternative energy flow failure! Total failure! Crisis alternative functions do not reply! I have lost raft guidance! She floats free!”
“Marrun, get your pushers in there now!”
The Voice-of-Pusher-Guidance could only look slowly away in the refusal posture. “No good, Tarrischall. No good. She’s entering the grid and I don’t have the clearance. If one of my units bumps her in a crisis bonding, I could knock her off vector and into the grid structure. She’s going in and I can’t stop her.”
He was right. May the Life-Fire-of-All-Things burn all! He was right! Even as Tarrischall looked on in growing horror, the bow of the cargo raft was ghosting into the grid mouth.
Tarrischall twisted to look at Narisara, his last hope of regaining control of the disintegrating situation. “Flow down, Voice-of-Physics! Close the channel!
The black-furred one could only look away as well. “No time,” she replied quietly. “We can’t fade the flow fast enough. The closing channel mouth would catch the raft. She’s going through wild, Tarrischall, and we can’t stop her.”
Tarrischall could only stare up at the far viewer display. “Beware Marta-My-Friend,” he whispered. “Beware.”
The silver-gray curve of the raft’s bow touched the infinite spherical blackness of the channel event horizon.
The tension inside the control center had grown into something physically perceptible.
Tight-lipped, Marta Lane stared as the acquisition time bar crept deeper into the red zone.
“We are now at T plus two minutes and thirty-nine seconds post projected acquisition, Director,” the gate systems manager said almost apologetically.
“I can see it, Mr. Desvergers,” she snapped “Quantum monitoring. Status on the hole?”
“No entry registering yet, ma’am.”
Lane glanced down at her assistant director. “Something’s wrong Wolf side, Estiban.
Tarrischall wouldn’t waste our energy this way with a sloppy transfer. He’s got problems.
Take us to Flash Yellow. Set alert protocols until we get this thing sorted out.”
“Doing it, Marta.”
“Contact,” The quantum monitor leaned in over his workstation display. “Director, we have mass in the hole… but we have a slow entry… way slow! Less than one-fifth standard transit velocity registering.”
“What the hell?” Lane’s brows knit together. “How’s the hole standing?”
“Dimensional structure is stable in all aspects. No variants! We have a good dilation here. This has got to be a barge problem. I confirm we have mass in trans-state and transit. Gravitational displacement is correct for projected payload, but it’s just crawling through.”
“Power boards, reserve status!”
“Down to sixty-five of standard. Load draw steady… Recomputing power consumption rates… We’ll make it, but it’ll be close. Forget today’s outbound shift, though. This is going to drain us dry.”
“Forget the outbound! Stand by your reserve accumulators and alert Ces-Lunar for an emergency power draw! Tug Control!”
“Yo!
