the operation of the gravity detectors that would enable the lasers to focus their blast in the precise fashion to stimulate the hole to emit an even greater rocketing burst of energy. That release would reduce the mass of the hole and boost it, however minutely, further out of the earth, closer to the sanctuary of space.
Everything looked in order, but Runyan felt a sickening knot in his stomach anyway. He and hundreds of others had worked very hard to determine the orbit of the hole. This site in the mid-Pacific had been selected with careful attention to the sub-mantle rock distribution to minimize any final perturbations to the hole's orbit. He was too close to this aspect of the project, though, and knew that despite all their care, this was the weak link. A small last second nudge, a drift in the orbit, one that was a bit too large for the huge turbines and the snake-fast device overhead to accommodate, and the whole gigantic enterprise could backfire, sending the hole deeper into the earth, beyond reach. Everything had seemed to function perfectly in half a dozen dry runs in which they had ambushed the hole, but allowed it to pass through their floating trap unmolested. This time they would pull the trigger. Their aim had to be true.
Runyan watched quietly for several minutes and then announced, 'It's 5 o'clock. Our ride leaves in ten minutes. Let's button it up.'
The operators glanced at him and then finished their tasks, logging out, turning their functions over to the computer and the remote monitors. One by one they sighed, pushed back from their terminals and left the room. The last one leaned over and gave his terminal a perfunctory kiss and a pat. Runyan smiled, clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy, and followed him out.
They gathered by the pad and the helicopter dropped down out of the dark sky right on schedule. Runyan knew each of the men intimately, but went through the formality of checking each off on a list as they bearded the helicopter, attesting that they were safely off the platform. Then he climbed aboard himself and didn't look back.
Back on the Bradford , Runyan stopped in the galley to choke down a doughnut and sip another cup of coffee. Then he lamed the gathering crowd on the deck, their backs to the rosy dawn, their eyes on that which they couldn't see, a hundred miles away across the flat ocean expanse. Runyan sought out Korolev. The Russian turned to face him, and they shook hands mutely, sombrely, and then leaned on the rail staring like all the others.
After a while Korolev grumbled.
'I saw a report the other day.'
Runyan listened in silence.
'Seismic activity along the trajectory,' the Russian continued.
'Just statistical. Not a strong signal. But real, I think.'
He took a sheet of note paper from his pocket and slowly and methodically tore it into strips, and the strips into bits.
When he finished, he spoke again.
'A definite increase in earthquake activity. No big quakes, but a larger number of small tremors. A weakening of the earth. The first small signs.'
Runyan nodded.
'Nervous?' he asked, gesturing at the scraps in the Russian's gnarled fist.
'Yes,' Korolev smiled, 'but no, this is something else. A little trick your Mr Fermi taught us years ago. The Manhattan Project. If we see nothing, we have a dud. If it works,' he lifted his fistful of confetti, 'we have a little hint of how well.'
At a pre-arranged time they put on dark goggles. All was silent on the Bradford. Runyan thought briefly of his wife. Then a new star was born.
After the initial flash, Runyan whipped off his goggles. The fireball grew rapidly, expanding along the horizon, blasting upward. Outward it rushed, silently, painfully white, looming, violent, menacing. No, Runyan heard himself telling it, no, that's big enough. He had to crane his neck to see the top. No. No. It was impossibly big, and still, it spread, implacable, ravishing the sky. They were safe at a hundred miles, Runyan thought, they had to be. But in a detached way he could feel a primal force gathering in his belly, forcing a scream towards his throat.
Then it paused, sated, halted its outward rush, and began to billow even taller.
They watched quietly, all diminished by the horrifying splendour. After long minutes, Runyan could make out the shock ripping towards them at unbelievable speed across the surface of the water.
'Hold on,' he heard Korolev mutter.
The Russian grabbed the railing with his free hand. His lips moved as he counted to himself, watching the shock front and tracing its path. Then he threw the shards of paper in the air between himself and Runyan. The shock arrived with the roar of an express tram, and the bits of confetti leapt sideways. Korolev watched them continue their wafting fall to the deck.
'It was a big one, Alex,' the Russian growled over the continuous rumble, 'a very big one. Pray the recoil was in the right direction.'
