‘Is there more radiation?’
Harper walked to the large elevator doors at the far end of the reception area. He shook his head. ‘Not really. The anomaly has stabilised, and is giving off mild gamma radiation and traces of X-rays, but nothing that needs any more than normal shielding.’
Becky looked back at the spacesuits and raised her eyebrows. Harper avoided her stare.
She followed him along the sterile corridor to the observation room — a room that she was growing to loathe. There were significantly more military personnel, scientists and equipment than last time. Things are finally happening, she thought.
From somewhere below them there was an irritating grinding, which sounded like a giant getting some dental work. Harper pushed open the observation room’s door, and Becky entered, nodding and mouthing hello to the technicians and scientists she recognised.
The sound of the grinding was muffled inside the room, but she was still aware of it, and could even feel the mechanical vibrations beneath her feet.
Harper motioned to two chairs set up in front of a bank of screens. One was focused on the accelerator’s particle collision point; through a cloud of concrete dust, the next screen showed a wall into which a machine was drilling a hole five feet in diameter. Its movements mirrored the vibrations.
Harper motioned with his head. ‘That’s what you can feel beneath your feet. We can’t wait for something to happen anymore, when there is a real and imminent threat from the anomaly.’
He looked at her with sad eyes. ‘To be candid, if we could simply close the distortion hole, we would. If we thought we could pour a thousand tons of concrete over it, we would. Neither option is possible. You see, one of the reasons we think the anomaly will not close is due to the theory of universal balance. Matter cannot be destroyed; it can only be transferred into a different state — solid to liquid, liquid to gas. Even ripping and shredding particles like we do here only creates different types of particles. What we think has happened is that Mr. Singer has been ejected from our dimension. To where or when, we don’t know. But because he no longer exists in our universe, there was an imbalance created… and the anomaly wouldn’t close until that balance had been restored.’
Becky searched his face. ‘So you need to bring him back? You have to bring him back?’
Harper shook his head. ‘Maybe if we brought him back within the first few seconds he disappeared. But now, the more matter that passes through, even if that matter is dust or even particles of light, the less chance of ever correcting the imbalance. Instead we believe we need to refire the laser… but first we need to find the laser acceleration diamond and we think Mr Singer has it with him. We just need to find him first.’
He examined her face. ‘Tell me. If Arn found himself in a strange place, maybe somewhere totally alien, what do you think he’d do?’
Becky snorted. ‘He’d go exploring.’
Harper exhaled wearily. ‘Oh great; so the sooner we find him the better.’ He pointed at the screen. ‘The acceleration chamber has become magnetically sealed by the disturbance, so we’re cutting our way in — right through eight feet of reinforced concrete. Once that’s done, we’ll fire a probe into the hole and try to take some readings.’
‘Can I be here when you do?’
Again, Harper looked at her sadly. ‘I’m sorry, Rebecca, but that’s something that will be restricted.’
Becky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘Are you kidding? I need to be here! I’m his friend…’ She reached into her pocket and switched on her phone.
Harper had already turned away. ‘It’s because you’re his friend that you can’t be here. We must face the fact that where he went might be an airless vacuum, or hotter than hell, or have a crushing gravity… For all we know, Arnold Singer may have been dead for weeks.’
Chapter 22
Wait… It’s Arrived
Harper watched the test with bated breath.
The bicycle-wheel-sized craft lifted from the ground on four rotational fans, like a miniature hovercraft — noiseless and sleek. The aerial mobile camera was modelled on deep-sea technology, except its housing didn’t need to be armour-plated against water pressure, so strength and durability could be traded off for mobility and speed.
Harper almost applauded as the machine remained suspended about six feet from the ground.
The four near-silent fan-blades were recessed in a broad, flat housing that made it look like a bulbous stingray. Gyroscopic assistance gave it incredible stability — it could hover motionless, even in a near hurricane, and bank and fly as swiftly as a bird of prey… well, a very fast pigeon, anyway. The front housed a large glass lens behind which sat the camera with an illuminated ring around it. It looked like a floating eye, in which a bottomless glass pupil was ringed by an iris of light.
Its miniaturised battery pack contained enough energy to run a small building, and allow the craft to run for at least forty-eight hours. It also powered the digital image feed and recorders. There was no guarantee anything at all would be delivered back to them, or for that matter that the device would survive the trip, but they didn’t have a lot of options. This would have to do.
Harper grunted his approval. ‘Ready as we’ll ever be. Okay, let’s take her in.’
The pilot ran his hand over his keyboard, giving each of the fans some extra thrust, and the craft lifted higher into the air. He turned one of the twin joysticks slightly and it spun slowly to line up with the freshly cut hole in the wall, now a dark tunnel leading to a lighter exit. Another technician focused the camera, and the image zoomed to the far end of the small tunnel. The craft entered, navigating the space with ease, emerging to hover just beside the smudge that hung in the air like steam over an air vent.
‘On your order, sir.’
Harper rubbed his hands together and leaned forward on the desk. ‘Proceed, four knots.’
The small craft glided to within an inch of the smudge of nothingness. Harper held his breath. A slight push on the joystick… and the craft leapt forward, as if being snatched up and swallowed. The data screens showed the device was still moving at a leisurely four knots, but the image feed indicated acceleration that was beyond comprehension.
Harper found it hard to continue watching the screen, as vertigo was making him feel giddy and nauseous. He turned to yell over his shoulder, ‘Distance?’
‘Ah, you’re not going to believe this, but: three feet — it’s barely moved. Theoretically, it’s still in the tunnel.’
‘What?’ Harper shook his head. ‘It must have malfunctioned. Can we turn it around?’
‘Wait… It’s arrived.’
As if a brake had been applied, the sensation of speed dissolved, and the camera light came on automatically as it detected low light. Harper blinked in confusion, and his mouth dropped open. He got to his feet.
‘Oh my God.’
Chapter 23
Dark Times
Arn was shown into the main hall by one of the castle’s hundreds of attendants. The servant didn’t enter the hall, but merely opened the door and motioned with his arm towards the darkened interior. Arn stepped through, and paused to allow his eyes to adjust.
A single candle burned on the far side of the room, and he made his way towards it. The silence was unsettling. Even his cautious footsteps sounded heavy as he crossed from the polished stones onto woven rugs.
Arn slowed when he saw that someone was seated in a massive chair, their head resting on one of their
