Beyond the Event Horizon (9 page)

Clive put each
of the figures in turn in the centre and magnified it. After
several rotations, not finding any similarity to the visualisation
of the gravity anomaly, he turned the figure back.

“That one’s
something like it,” said Steve, when Clive reached the fourth
figure.

Clive looked
at it intently, but then shook his head.

“No, hardly,”
he said, and went on to the next projection.

“Not that one,
either,” said Steve and Clive at the same time.

Eventually it
came to the turn of the tesseract. With a vivid enough imagination,
the similarity looked quite good. This time Steve did not say
anything, but only turned to look at Clive. Not hurrying to change
the figure, Clive gave a barely perceptible nod.

“What do you
think?” he asked Steve.

“Could
be.”

“Shall we try
it then?”

“Let’s do
it.”

Clive made a
gesture as if grabbing something floating in the air and then
throwing it towards the display, on which the visualisation of the
data from their gravity scans was rotating in an endless cycle. The
visualisation froze at once. The computer waited for the next
task.

“Simulate a
visualisation of the portal as a three-dimensional projection of a
four-dimensional hypercube,” he ordered the computer.

The electronic
brain of the AI paused briefly, then produced the solution. Clive
combined the two images on the screen. The external resemblance was
quite strong.

“There is a
certain similarity,” said Steve, without taking his eyes off the
screen.

“Yes, they are
visually similar,” said Clive, echoing this opinion.

“Now we have
to check it analytically. If they coincide... you could easily
write a hundred doctorate theses on the subject,” said Steve
slowly.

“And theses
for a dozen Nobel Prizes,” added Clive. Inspired by scientific
curiosity, he had completely forgotten about his lack of sleep. His
disordered hair and eyes, running from lack of sleep but burning
with fire, made him look crazy. Now he looked exactly like the mad
scientists in the comics, though much younger.

“You know what
bothers me a little?” said Steve. “The fact that the portal is
rotating.”

“If they are
connected rigidly to each other, there is nothing surprising in
that. After all, its other side comes out in some other star
system, which could have angular momentum relative to the Solar
System. If in one such system it is at rest, it must rotate in the
other.”

Steve thought
about it carefully.

“Then the axis
of rotation must coincide with the direction towards the other
end,” he said eventually.

“Sounds
logical.”

“Let’s see
where it’s pointing.”

Clive turned
back to the console again. On the screen there appeared an image of
the Milky Way, viewed from above and to the side.

Steve knew the
position of the Solar System in it by heart. He found it with a
quick look. A few seconds later, a winking yellow spot appeared at
that point.

“The pulsating
marker is our Sun,” Clive told Steve.

Steve rolled
his eyes heavenwards. Clive thought that without his prompting,
no-one was capable of finding his own star himself! Too clever by
half!

A white arrow
extended out from the yellow spot.

“The straight
white line is the direction of the axis of rotation of the portal,”
added Clive.

The white line
extended in the plane of the galaxy, barely touching its centre,
towards the other side of the disc.

“Damn, that
sector is covered in dust,” said Steve disappointedly.

“Perhaps
deliberately, to prevent us finding out where the tunnel ends?”

“Looks like
it.”

“All right, we
must send the data to Shelby. They can feel out that sector, maybe
they will be able to see where the tunnel leads in the gravity
band,” said Clive.

“Go get some
sleep, I’ll check the calculations and prepare a report.”

“OK. If
anything happens, wake me up,” said Clive, rising with difficulty
from his chair.

“Yes, of
course, of course. Go and sleep.”

The first
thing Steve did when he was left on his own in the compartment was
to brew himself some green tea. He didn’t like drinking coffee
while he was working, as the others did. It lay too heavily on the
stomach. Tea was another matter. It had a calming effect, both on
the body and on the spirit.

A few hours
later, the latest report was ready. Steve had a last-minute look
through the whole document. He didn’t appear to have forgotten
anything, it could be sent.

“Send,” he
commanded.

The document
on the screen closed and disappeared. He reckoned he could take a
break now. He gestured to switch off the desktop displays, then got
up and turned to the central one to do the same. Up to now, it had
been visualising information from the gravity scanners on the
anomaly. But now the axis of rotation of the tunnel was pointing
not to the other side of the galaxy, but somewhere upward. Steve
caught his breath.

“When did the
portal change its axis of rotation?” he asked the computer.

“Twenty
minutes and thirty-four seconds ago,” the computer replied
calmly.

“Why didn’t
you warn me before?”

“I had not
received any instruction to do so, sir.”

Steve waved at
it in disgust. Electronic idiot...

“Compare with
scanning data from the very beginning of the expedition. Has it
done this before?”

“No, sir.”

“Extend the
axis of rotation to the edge of our galaxy. Look only at the star
systems of the Milky Way. Does it intersect any planetary systems
where the planar inclination of the orbits coincides with the angle
of rotation?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Which star is
it?”

“83
Leonis.”

With a shiver,
Steve ordered the computer to create a new report.

“Report for
Shelby. Twenty minutes ago, the portal changed configuration.
Possible activation with view to transfer. Input point believed to
be in star system 83 Leonis. Message ends.”

Lost in
thought, Steve and Clive looked at the visualisation of the portal
in silence. Kimble, in his chair as always, was reading a book, and
only glanced at the two of them when they were talking about
something he understood.

The latest
report from Shelby had come in today. In it, he had included an
actualised version of the theory describing the portal. Steve and
Clive were to go into the physico-mathematical model and check it
as far as they could experimentally, using the scientific apparatus
on board the ship.

It was not an
easy job. The original research work was really more art than
science. The study of a new hitherto unknown phenomenon is always
like an attempt to open the door of a massive safe with bare hands.
Every millimetre of its surface has to be carefully studied to find
even a microscopic clue. At first it is not always known which way
the door with the new knowledge behind it opens. And sometimes it
isn’t even known where the door is.

Steve got up
from his seat and stretched himself. His muscles were beginning to
ache from hours of sitting still, and it was as if someone had
filled his brain with a thick grease that was slowing down his
thought processes.

“Can I get you
anything?” he asked Clive as he set off for the drinks machine.

“No
thanks.”

Steve went up
to the machine, poured himself some sparkling water and drank it
slowly. The cold feeling ran down his throat, dissipating his
sleepiness to some extent.

“Let’s take
model number two as a basis,” proposed Steve, leaning on the wall.
“The one in which the portals are bonded by two points in
space-time, rather than serving as a way out into hyperspace
through which travel time can be shortened. Then we can
theoretically direct a telescope onto the portal and look into that
part of space, as if we had put a telescope at the location of the
other portal.”

“That doesn’t
happen. It does not appear in the electromagnetic spectrum, unless
you count the light gravity ripple which slightly diverts the light
beam.”

“That’s
because the portal is closed. It hasn’t been activated yet. But at
the moment when ships pass through it we shall see exactly what I
said: the star pattern of that sector of space from which the ships
come. Just imagine, if their central star or planet comes within
the field of vision of our telescope, it will be the first time we
have been able to study another system from such a short
distance.”

Clive
considered this.

“Not a bad
idea. We can try. Only it will have to be placed as close as
possible to the portal so that its angle of vision on the other
side is as great as it can be.”

“And we’ll
have to mount another telescope on the rear of the portal.”

“That’s also
true.”

Suddenly the
compartment was filled with a soft signal. The computer always
produced this sound when it wanted to attract attention, and Steve
and Clive simultaneously turned their heads towards the screens.
The background of one of the graphics they were displaying, of
which there were well over a hundred, was winking red. Steve pushed
himself off from the wall and went right up to the monitors. Even
on the miniature image, it was apparent that its graph was creeping
upwards.

“OK, magnify
it,” he asked Clive, who was sitting at the console.

In the
magnified view, it could be seen that the graph depicted the
measurement results of the alpha radiation around the portal.

“What new
trick is this?” muttered Clive.

“What
processes in nature generate alpha radiation?” asked Steve,
thinking aloud.

“Well, the
Sun, for instance... And then there’s...”

“No, that’s
it. The Sun.”

“So what?”

“So we are
detecting the solar wind of 83 Leonis! The portal is transporting
the wind of their central stars to our Solar System! It’s
opened!”

The flow of
charged particles was increasing all the time. Steve looked at the
graph of its intensity, which was slowly climbing. Suddenly, the
straight line of the graph curved sharply and shot up. The flow
intensity had begun growing exponentially. The graph on the display
seemed to have frozen, and only the scale was changing its values,
measuring in ever larger units.

Three points
suddenly flared up and went out inside the triangle with which the
computer had outlined the position of the portal against the
star-studded sky. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed that
the auxiliary displays were also filling with columns of figures.
The sensors positioned around the portals were beginning to send a
firework display of readings.

“It looks as
if there are three of them this time,” remarked Kimble, who up to
now had been silently observing what was going on.

Clive,
monitoring the sensor readings, also livened up.

“I confirm the
flight of three objects through the portal, heading towards the
centre of the Solar System. All three are flying in formation on
parallel trajectories. Speed constant.”

All at once he
shuddered and jumped up in his seat.

“One of them
scanned us with a laser beam... The formation is still moving
without changing its flight parameters.”

Steve, without
showing it, sighed inwardly with relief. Now the aliens know that
we have discovered their portal and know what it’s for. The drones
around it are positioned so that they will not interfere with the
flight of the ships, and the expedition ship itself is a bit
further off. Apparently, in spite of the way our last meeting
ended, they must have realised that the strike against them was
unintentional and therefore don’t see us as a threat. That’s good.
Unless, of course, they’ve come to settle accounts with our Solar
System.

“Wait.” Clive
began working very fast on the console. “In my opinion, it wasn’t a
scan, it was some sort of message,” he said eventually.

“Feed the
signal into the AI and let it translate it,” proposed Steve.

“Damn, where’s
that module?” Clive knew what to do without being told, and was
feverishly looking for the necessary module of the AI.

“Here it is.
It’s ready.”

DO NOT PURSUE,
DO NOT TRACK WITH TARGETING SYSTEMS.

ANY HOSTILE
ACTION WILL LEAD TO INSTANT DESTRUCTION.

Steve slowly
lowered himself into his seat.

“Inform
Shelby,” he said.

At the SSS
Academy’s annual graduation ceremony, delayed this year due to the
recent emergency, MacQueen had been given the role of speaker and
of presenting awards to the particularly outstanding cadets of the
past year. He was the only commander of such high rank among those
present, and naturally attracted the attention of the cadets
because of the position he held.

Although
official speeches delivered by high-ranking officials and officers
are, generally speaking, made up of vague generalities and clichés
(as their position obliges them to be), MacQueen did not consider
his presence an empty formality. The cadets, many of whom were in
their first year, were yesterday’s school pupils. Today they were
being addressed by the Commander-in-Chief of the Space Fleet, who
many of them had seen on television or read about in the papers.
Such events make an impression, make them understand the importance
of their future work, are frequently recalled, and have an
influence on the personality.

MacQueen
himself was no exception. In his second year at the SSS Academy,
they were addressed by the Commander of the First Fleet, who left
an indelible impression on the future general, although he was two
or three ranks below that held by MacQueen today. MacQueen still
remembered it as if it were yesterday, how one sensed his iron
will, and his crushing handshake which made the joints crackle.