Zero Hour

The man below untied the launch and shoved it off before coming back up the stairs.

“We need to get under way,” Janko said as the two men picked Devlin up and carried him toward the hatch.

“And then what?” the first crewman asked. “What do we do with him when he wakes up?”

“We show him what became of the ship he lost,” Janko explained. “And then we toss him in the pit, along with the crew from those Korean freighters. He can dig for Thero’s diamonds like all the rest.”

EIGHTEEN

Australian outback, just south of Alice Springs

The Ghan raced through the desert like a great metal snake: twenty shimmering passenger cars pulled by a pair of matching diesels in a brick-red paint scheme.

Named in reverence to Afghan explorers who helped map Australia’s desolate interior and adorned with a camel logo, the Afghan Express traveled a route that stretched vertically across the continent, from Darwin in the north down to Adelaide on the island’s southern coast, pulling into Alice Springs every few days near the halfway point of its journey in each direction.

A four-hour whistle-stop allowed passengers to explore the small town, but, as dusk approached, the train began to fill up once again. Kurt and Hayley boarded shortly before departure.

“Where exactly are we going?” Hayley asked.

Kurt said nothing. He just kept moving forward until he reached the Platinum Car, in which the train’s most luxurious accoutrements resided. A steward opened the door to their compartment, revealing a compact lounge, complete with a private bathroom and shower, a small table, and a pair of large plush chairs that folded out into beds at night. The space was tight, like a ship’s stateroom, but the modern design and decor made it seem more spacious.

“Pick a side, any side,” Kurt said, “and then relax and await the gourmet dining to follow.”

Hayley pointed, and Kurt placed her small carry-on beside the chair.

“Are you trying to impress me?” she asked.

“Possibly,” Kurt admitted. “But mostly I figured you could use a little taking care of after all you’ve been through. It’s not every day someone steps out of their regular life and takes on something like this.”

A soft smile appeared on Hayley’s face. She seemed surprised and reassured all at the same time. “It feels like forever since someone gave a bit of thought to what I might need. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Kurt said, putting his own pack away as the train eased off the stops and began to move.

An hour later, night was falling. The view through the picture windows of the cabin was that of an indigo sky blending slowly with the matte black of the MacDonnell mountain range. With this for a backdrop, dinner arrived, brought in by a private steward on a rolling cart.

Kurt paid the steward, included a generous tip, and then acted as a combination sommelier and maitre d’, laying a cloth napkin across Hayley’s lap and presenting the wine.

“A 2008 Penngrove Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“I love a good cabernet,” Hayley said, her eyes sparkling like a child awaiting a present.

“I haven’t had this one,” Kurt said. “I’m told it’s very smooth, with a hint of licorice and vanilla.”

He uncorked the bottle and took her glass, pouring it from about ten inches above. “A good fall helps the wine to aerate,” he said. “It speeds up the breathing process. But we should still give it a few minutes.”

“Why not?” Hayley replied. “The poor crushed grapes have been in there for years. Be a shame not to give them a few minutes to soak up the fresh air.”

Kurt poured a glass of his own and set the bottle down.

Next, he lifted the insulating covers from the plates set up before them. An avocado-green-colored soup with dashes of red was first. “Pea-and-ham soup, with a hint of garlic.”

“Looks delicious.”

Pulling the cover off the second scrumptious-looking dish, Kurt continued, “Braised short ribs with silver-beet gratin. And the piece de resistance…” He removed the final lid. “Bread-and-butter pudding, soaked in sweetened custard and brandy.”

“I might just start with that,” Hayley said. “How on earth did you conjure up such fantastic foods on a train out here in the never-never?”

“Platinum service,” Kurt said. “And, besides, the chef is a personal friend of mine. At least he has been for the last few hours.”

She took a deep breath. “If this is traveling, perhaps I could get used to it.”

Kurt sat down as Hayley sampled the soup.

“Must say I’ve never met someone so brave and intelligent who’s afraid to travel,” Kurt said.

“I know it’s strange,” she said. “I know all the statistics, how the most dangerous part of any trip is the drive to the airport. I understand aerodynamics, and I spend half my life dreaming about far-off places, but something grips me when I leave home.”

“You seem okay now,” Kurt pointed out.

She smiled. “Maybe it’s the company.”

“Consider me your personal guide and protector wherever we go.”

“Truth is, I’d love to see the world,” she said. “And the universe. I used to dream about being an astronaut. Seems a little silly, when getting out of Sydney makes me feel like I’m going to be ill.”

“The universe is a big step,” Kurt said. “Let’s start by getting to Perth.”

The Ghan would take them south to Port Augusta, where they’d board another of Australia’s great trains for the journey west.

For the next twenty minutes, they ate and chatted lightly, enjoying the atmosphere and the gentle motion of the train. Only after they’d had their second helpings of bread pudding did Kurt ask the question that was most on his mind.

“So tell me about zero-point energy,” he said.

She finished the last sip of her cabernet and slid her glass toward him. Kurt filled it halfway and then topped off his own glass.

“Zero-point energy is a relatively simple concept,” she said. “It’s the energy remaining in a system when all that can be drawn from it has been taken out.”

She pointed to the bottle of wine. “Imagine this bottle is a system or an energy field, and you or I decide to drink from it with a straw.”

“Which we would never do,” Kurt pointed out.

“Not unless we were outrageously desperate,” she replied with a conspiratorial smile. “But assuming we’d lost all sense of decorum and decided to give it a try, we’d be able to siphon off the energy from it right down to the bottom of the straw. But any wine below the reaches of the straw would remain behind untapped. That wine that can’t be reached is the zero-point energy.”

“Unless we found a longer straw,” Kurt said.

“Exactly,” she said, “except that physics tells us that, at some point, there’s no such thing as a longer straw.”

“Can you give me a real example?”

“The classic case is helium,” she said. “As it’s cooled, the molecular activity within the sample begins to slow, and the helium turns from a gas to a liquid. At absolute zero, it should freeze into a solid, and all molecular activity inside it should stop. But no matter how far one lowers the temperature, right down to absolute zero, helium will never turn into a solid under normal atmospheric pressure.”

“Meaning?”

“Some energy remains in the system. Some energy that can’t be removed.”

“And that’s zero-point energy?”

“Exactly,” she said once again.