“Mr. Johansson,” Nigel said. “It looks like the Commonwealth owes you a big apology.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sheldon, but right now I’d like to swap that for one piece of information.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a train approaching the Boongate gateway. Is it one you authorized?”
“Yes. Don’t worry. It’s carrying a team who are going to deal with a Starflyer agent.”
“Really? And what about the second train?”
Nigel stared at Nelson. “What second train?”
The link broadened into a grainy visual image. A single aging carriage was crawling forward toward the giant row of gateways. Three hundred meters behind it, another train was sliding onto the track that led to Boongate.
“Who the fuck is that?” Nigel gasped. His expanded mentality accessed Narrabri station traffic control. The train wasn’t even registering on the system.
“Shut the gateway,” Paula demanded. “Now!”
Nigel didn’t need to be told. His virtual hand touched Daniel Alster’s icon. There was no reply; it didn’t even acknowledge his connection request. The only result was the Boongate gateway data dropping out of his grid. “Shit.” He hurriedly called up Ward Smith’s unisphere address code. It didn’t answer, either. Nigel diverted his full expanded mentality to the Boongate gateway control system, ready to take personal control and shut the wormhole. His electronic presence couldn’t gain access. “I can’t get in,” Nigel said. It shocked him more than anything else. “I can’t get into the fucking system.”
“What about Alster?” Oscar asked. “Can he shut it down?”
“He’s not responding.”
“Daniel Alster, your chief executive aide,” Paula said; she nodded with what could have been satisfaction. “Perfectly placed.”
“This is most exhilarating,” Qatux said. “I am so glad I came.”
***
The Boongate gateway was four hundred meters dead ahead, and the carriage had slowed to walking pace. Alic could see the track leading straight into the bottom of the funereal semicircle in front of them, glimmering silver in the dusky light. So close! The tension from waiting was acting like ice water on his guts. None of the others were saying anything; they all stood together watching the gateway as it opened for them.
It had never actually closed, Alic knew, that was misleading; the wormhole still reached Boongate—CST had simply reduced its internal width to zero. Expanding it again was a simple application of power. In his mind he saw it as a single big lever you just had to pull down.
The dark semicircle began to brighten, shading up to a husky gold.
“Here we go,” Matthew said.
“Hell, I never thought we’d actually do it,” Jim said. “What do you think the future’s going to be like?”
“Let’s just concentrate on the mission,” Alic said.
“Oh, come on, Boss, you’ve got to be interested.”
“Maybe, but the mission comes first.” But it did give him pause for thought as the carriage began to speed up.
“Do we get twenty years’ salary paid us?” Jim asked.
“From the navy?” John said. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“But we’ll be gone for twenty years.”
“Only if we actually make it through this time travel wormhole. I mean what happens if the Primes attack Wessex while we’re halfway through?”
“Then we get dead very quickly,” Vic said cheerfully. “Without the generator, the wormhole collapses with us inside.”
“Sheldon will use his superbomb against Dyson Alpha,” Matthew said. “Nobody’s going to attack Wessex. We’ll win the war.”
“Okay, but what if some other war breaks out in ten years’ time while we’re still traveling?”
“Great, you just keep looking on the good side—”
“Alic,” Oscar said. “It’s behind you.”
“What?” some primitive instinct sent a shiver along Alic’s limbs.
“The Starflyer is behind you. There’s a train accelerating along the track. We’ve lost control of the gateway. Move!”
Alic swung around to examine the rear of the carriage. The ceiling lights were dim back there, turning the cargo handling area into a gloomy metal cave. He raised an arm, a plasma rifle siding up out of its forearm recess. He set it to rapid expansion, and fired. The bolt blasted a two-meter hole through the rear of the carriage. A judder ran along the carriage floor as it rocked on its stiff old suspension.
“Christ, Boss,” Jim exclaimed. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Alic didn’t answer. He was staring through the gap. Bright light was shining straight in at him. His retinal inserts brought filter programs on-line. A GH7-class engine was moving onto their track three hundred meters behind them, its headlights blazing as it started to pick up speed. He could see the last of its wagons curving around off the points, clad in yellow sand. It was the train they’d just passed on a siding.
The front of the GH7 was almost three times the height of the carriage they were riding in, and easily twice as wide. Its chrome air intake grille alone was bigger than them. And its speed was reducing the distance fast; with only a few wagons it could accelerate hard.
“Shit!” Vic cried out.
“It’s the Starflyer,” Alic told them. One of his particle lances swung up and over his shoulder, pointing directly at the center of the GH7. He fired. Incandescence flooded the carriage like a solid force. Windows blew out from the sound blast of the discharge. Alic swayed backward, almost falling, feeling the suit’s electromuscle bands fighting the recoil. The lance struck the GH7 head-on, and broke apart.
“Force field,” Matthew said. “They’ve got heavy-duty protection.”
“Vic, John, take out the track,” Alic ordered. The GH7 was closer now, barely two hundred meters away. It was terrifyingly massive.
“Speed up,” Oscar said. “Take control of the carriage, and accelerate.”
Alic’s virtual hands danced over the carriage management icons. Vic and John raced for the back of the carriage, and knelt down in front of the blast hole. They began shooting at the track between them and the GH7. Green and purple flashes streaked across the ground outside.
“They’ve extended their force field,” Vic yelled. “We can’t hit the track.”
Alic’s black virtual hand thumped the carriage accelerator symbol, and held it down. There was a shrill whining sound from the axle motors, and the carriage lurched forward.
“They’re gaining on us,” Matthew yelled. “We’re going to get bulldozed.”
Alic whirled around. The gateway was only two hundred meters away now.
A searing scarlet explosion erupted from the side of the GH7. Flames splashed across the giant engine’s force field, twisting away into the sky to fuel a writhing cloud of black smoke.
“Oh, great,” Jim moaned. “Now someone else out there is shooting.”
Nigel’s expanded mentality examined the physical connections into the Boongate gateway control center. Fireshields had been erected at every interface node in CST’s Narrabri network, isolating the entire system.
There has to be a way in!
He could crack the fireshields, but it would take time. They were based on one hundred ninety geometry encryption.
“Get a security team into the gateway control center,” Nigel snapped at Nelson. His digital presence circled around and around the network, interrogating every routing node, hunting a weakness. Eight of Narrabri station’s RIs were diverted from their primary function of managing wormhole generators, and assigned decryption on the fireshields. He knew they wouldn’t do it in time.
The traffic control network, with its complex sensor system spread across the station, was still available to him. He accessed the cameras on top of the Boongate gateway, receiving a clear view looking down on the little carriage as it shuddered its way along the last hundred fifty meters of track. The GH7 was right behind it, headlights illuminating the shoddy paintwork and grime-smeared wheels. The distance was shrinking rapidly as the carriage accelerated as best its ancient hub motors could manage. Missiles slammed into the GH7. Completely ineffectual.
Where did they come from?
“Gateway control center is closed and barricaded,” Nelson reported. “We can’t get in.”
“Blow it open,” Nigel ordered. One aspect of his expanded mentality was examining the orbital platforms to see if their beam weapons could get a clear shot at the GH7. But he didn’t have access to the Narrabri force field, and by the time he got through to Alan it would be too late.
Another slender particle lance shot came from the carriage to strike ineffectually at the force field around the GH7. Then the carriage swept through the open gateway.
Alic was instinctively bracing himself for the impact. The GH7 was closing fast now, bearing down on them with more inertia than a falling moon.
“Get ready to jump,” Alic said. He bent his legs, ready to use the strength of the suit’s electromuscle. It should be enough to power him clear, then if he sprinted…
“We stay,” Vic growled. “We’ll be through any second. I’m not going to let him get away from us now.”
“But—”
The weak rose-gold light emanating from the gateway was almost lost in the harsh blaze of the headlights behind them. Alic was mesmerized by the GH7 as it raced ever closer. Decision time was measurable in seconds. Less.
“Stay with it,” Vic pleaded.
Which was a personal choice, Alic knew, whereas he should be making cool operational assessments. Too late.
Another barrage of missiles hammered at the GH7 engine. Then they were through the force field, and Boongate’s planetary station was laid out in front of them under the gloaming of a twilight sun. Alic stared in consternation at what was waiting for them. “Jump,” he yelled frantically.
***
