Infinity Beach

25

The flyer was too slow.

The shroud closed on her. It was near enough that she could make out eyes, four of them now, distributed across its forward section, like windows in the cockpit of an aircraft.

It drew close to her tail, filling the aft screen, watching her as though it could see through the flyer’s own monitoring system, could see her. It touched the aircraft, began to engulf the rudders and the rear jets. She yanked hard over and fought for altitude. It tried to follow but the turn was too much and it disintegrated and scattered across the sky. She congratulated herself, leveled off at two thousand meters and turned back toward Eagle Point. At best speed.

Air Rescue was still talking to her, asking what was going on, demanding to know where the bodies were, what the nature of her emergency was, assuring her of dire penalties if the images she was sending turned out to be virtuals.

“It’s real,” she told them.

“What is it?”

Behind her, the fireflies were beginning to reassemble.

Son of a bitch.

“Kim, what is going on?”

“I’m being chased by something. I don’t know what it is.”

“All right. Stay away from it. Help’s on the way.”

“Tell them to be careful. The thing’s deadly.”

“What can you tell us about it?”

“I can tell you that directed microwaves will disrupt it.”

“Microwaves.” There was a brief conversation with someone else. Then: “Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know. But it’s pulled itself together out there and it’s starting this way again.”

“We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Kim saw lights coming from the direction of Eagle Point. “Thanks,” she said.

She was several kilometers in front of it now, and it was no more than a fuzzy patch of cloud in the moonlight. But she saw the comet head re-forming, saw it moving against the backdrop of other clouds.

Her sensors told her it was gathering speed. Coming fast and coming faster.

She waited, watched it approach, watched it fill the sky behind her. Its mad gaze stared malevolently out of her screens. And when she could stand it no more, when it was climbing her tailpipe, she turned aside and sent it hurtling once again across the sky.

Stupid goddamn critter.

Trailing filaments touched her starboard wing. Lights went off, a red lamp on the console began blinking furiously, and the engine died. The flyer fell. The sky reeled around her and Kim’s stomach tried to climb up into her throat. Engine failure was supposed to be something that never happened. But if it did, procedure required taking a minute before trying to restart. Give the automatics time to clear the lines. She held on as long as she could while the flyer dropped through the sky. Then she hit the button. The magnetics caught and the engine came on.

Trees and hills swept past.

She pulled back on the yoke, gained enough to clear obstacles, but stayed low. Keep down in thicker air. That should make it more difficult for the shroud.

It was off her screens, but she thought she could see its remnants, long wispy trails against the stars.

The red lamp was still blinking.

Batteries.

She requested a readout on her power supplies.

“Kim.” A new voice. A man’s. “Steer northeast and gain some altitude. We’ll take it from here.”

A police cruiser appeared above off to her right.

“Glad to see you guys,” she told them. “Heads up. The thing’s bad news.”

The shroud was re-forming.

A second unit moved in. Kim scanned for their frequency, hoping to hear what they were saying to each other, but without Jerry she couldn’t find it.

The warning lamp was blinking furiously. Get down before you fall down. Ordinarily, she’d have looked for the nearest piece of flat land. But not tonight. She returned to her Eagle Point course.

The police had commenced firing. They were using bolt lasers. Big ones, far more potent than the handheld models with which Tripley’s security team had been armed.

Caught in the assault, the shroud rippled orange and white. Sections of it were blown away. Tendrils fountained into the air, and the creature began to dissolve.

The cruiser moved in and attacked at point-blank range.

“—Maybe not a good idea—” she told them.

From Kim’s perspective it looked like a minuscule electrical storm. But suddenly the charges stopped, the lights went out, and the aircraft disappeared into the darkness. Moments later, near the ground, a fireball erupted.

The radio was silent.

Power reserves gave her thirty minutes. Getting tight. Where was she going to land that she’d be safe from that goddamn thing?

“Kim.” Air Rescue again. “Keep moving. Get out of the area.”

“I’m trying to do that.” The sky to her rear was dark. “The shooting’s stopped back there,” she said.

“I know.”

Her sensors reacquired the shroud.

“You need something more effective than a laser. You have anything that can transmit concentrated microwaves?”

“We’re looking into it. Kim, can you move a little faster?”

“I’m losing power. I’m not sure I can make the city.”

“Just as well. Head east. Away from the mountains. Look for a place to set down. We have more units en route.”

Head east. “Unless you’ve got something better than you had last time,” she said, “you’re just going to get people killed. Me among them. Maybe you should call in the fleet.”

“Trust us. We’ll take care of it.”

Right.

The shroud was coming again. Moving with increasing velocity through the night.

Damned stupid Sheyel. Nobody ever listens.

A string of lights raced across the countryside, westbound into the mountains. The night seemed peaceful, orderly, mundane. Whatever aircraft were coming to her rescue had not yet appeared onscreen. In all that vast stillness, only the train and her pursuer were moving. But she had a substantial lead.

Nevertheless the creature was going to kill her, and there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it.

The string of lights started to go out, front to rear. The train was entering the Culbertson Tunnel.

She watched until it was gone. “Air Rescue, how long is the Culbertson?”

“Twenty-six kilometers, Kim. Why do you ask?”

She’d been through it, and she tried to visualize the interior of the tunnel. But all she could remember was that it had been too dark to see anything.

She looked up the train schedules for Eagle Point. There were a half dozen commuters daily and eight long-distance passenger carriers. Freights were more numerous, but the schedules less exact. Three-oh-four was due shortly from Worldend, on the west coast. A freight. This one would be carrying flyers, furniture, building materials. Nine cars. Fully automated. No people on board. Scheduled to arrive in twenty minutes.

She opened her channel to Air Rescue. “Can you check to see whether 304 is running today and whether it’s on schedule?”

“Sure.” He paused. “Why?”

“Just do it for me. I’ll explain later.”

She brought up a map of the maglev routes. The freight would be coming in on the western line. Through the Culbertson. Its normal speed through open country approached 400 kilometers per hour. But it would slow down to 220 for the run under the mountain.

“That’s affirmative on the train, Kim,” said Air Rescue. “They’re coming and they’re on time.”

“To the second?”

“What do you mean?”

She told him what she wanted to do. He caught his breath. She couldn’t do that. Too dangerous. It wouldn’t be permitted. His instructions were that she was simply to keep running until they could bring down the shroud.

“That’s not going to work. Lasers aren’t going to kill it and I’m running out of power and I’ll be a sitting duck for it on the ground.”

“Why is it after you?”

“It doesn’t like my political views.” Kim glared at the radio. “I don’t know.” Several sets of lights had appeared in the sky. “Your people are here,” she said.

“Okay. Just keep moving.”

She counted four more police cruisers. This time they kept their distance, firing from long range, moving away when it veered after one or another of the units. She admired the coordination of the attackers, who kept hitting it from different angles. Nevertheless, the shroud did not seem to be suffering grievous damage.

Kim banked the flyer and made for the tunnel.

Behind her the red and white beams of the lasers flashed like sabers. Then her angle changed and she couldn’t see it anymore.

She was riding through the night when the sky behind her lit up.

The Air Rescue channel had been silent for several minutes. Now her contact came back up: “Okay, Kim, looks like you were right. We’re going to try something else.”

“What?”

“We’re going to attempt a midair extraction. It’ll be quicker than setting down.”

She looked at the forest below. “No,” she said.

“It’s perfectly safe.”

Her stomach turned over at the prospect. “I’m sure it is. But it’s after me. Not the aircraft. It won’t do any good to move me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Look, can we discuss this later?”

“I’m sorry. I know things are a little tense.”

“I’d be inclined to agree with that.”

“We’ve just never seen anything like this before.”

“Not covered by the operating instructions, I take it.”

“Look, Kim. We’re doing the best we can.”

“Yeah.” She softened her voice. “I know. But I’m going to do the tunnel.”

“We don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Offer me a better one.”

The talker on the other end was silent.

“I need you to help,” she said.

“Wait one.”

“Make it quick. Time’s getting short.”

She saw the southern route as she passed over it, the one used by trains traveling between Eagle Point and Terminal City. It consisted of a magnetized band about as wide as her hand was long. In forest areas it was usually set at treetop level, and was supported by a sturdy metal framework. When the angle was right, the band reflected moonlight.

Had the sun been up, she’d have been able to see the path cut through the forest by the maglevs. Moving at supersonic speeds, they created sonic booms and explosive winds that pushed aside everything close to the track. Trees and shrubbery leaned sharply away on either side, as far from passing trains as they could get. The effect was like that of the parting of the Red Sea, a leafy wilderness this time, divided by irresistible power.

She picked up the maglev route west and began to follow it toward the mountains. Beyond Eagle Point the peaks bunched up into a vast rampart, the tallest range on the planet. They were snow-covered, majestic, impassable without the tunnel. The approaches were scarred from ancient movement: deep canyons, sudden ridges, precipices.

“Hello? Air Rescue, are you there?”

Nothing. She imagined a hand over the mike and people arguing, making calls.

“For a start,” said Kim, “you need to turn off any safety devices.” Anything that would stop the train if detectors noted an obstruction in the tunnel.

“Go ahead, Doc. If you still want to do this—”

They had her title, which meant they’d checked her out. “Good. Listen, I need some details. How long is the tunnel? Exactly? What are its dimensions? Does it curve? If so, where and how much? And when will the freight enter it? I need to know to the second.”

“That might be hard to come by.”

“Why? Punch some buttons. It should be easy.”

“Not in the time available.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Tom. Tom Pace.”

“Tom, you’re all I have.”

“Kim,” Pace said, “I thought you’d want to know. We’ve called in the military.”

“That’s good. When will they get here?”

“Within the hour.”

“That might be a little behind the curve. Do you have those numbers for me yet?”

“I’m working on it.”

Ahead, a gray wall was rising and she saw the black mouth of the tunnel at its base. She was too early. She turned in a tight circle around toward the north. Buy time and give the critter a chance to get closer.

She checked her power reserve. It was down to thirteen minutes.

“Kim, I have your information.”

“Go.”

“First of all, the tunnel is straight.”

Thank God for that.

“It’s nineteen to twenty-one meters wide. Depends where you are. Eighteen meters high, but the track’s three meters off the ground, so you really only have fifteen meters clearance. The tunnel is 26.1 kilometers long. The freight will enter the western end at 9:42:45. Give or take thirty seconds. Sorry, that’s the best we can do. It’ll be down to 220 kilometers per hour on entry. You want me to repeat that?”

She checked the satellite-controlled clock. It was just past 9:31. She punched the numbers into the computer, got her results, and set the timer.

“Kim, this is not a good idea.”

“I know, Tom.” She could see the shroud coming up from the south, a glowing patch moving against the stars.

She completed her turn and started west again, trying to time her flight so she’d enter the tunnel at exactly 9:35. Her sensors picked up the route and she locked on.

“Good luck,” he said. “Safeties are off.” To his everlasting credit, he went quiet.

The timer told her she was due at the tunnel in one minute. She looked ahead at the rapidly approaching peaks and estimated she was running right on schedule.

The shroud had made up most of its lost ground and was again closing in. The mountains rose around her and she was committed, no place to go except the tunnel. Her pursuer stayed with her.

At forty seconds, she reconnected Jerry.

It immediately began getting inputs from the flyer’s various sensors. “Kim,” it said accusingly, “what have you done?”

“We have to go through the tunnel,” she told it. “I need you to do that.”

It didn’t waste time arguing. It descended slightly, lined up on the entrance, and slowed down.

“There’s a train coming in the other end at 9:42:45,” she said. “Thirty-second potential deviation.”

It did not respond and she assumed it was checking the schedule. “You’re correct. I am filing a complaint.”

“That’s okay. Just get us through.”

The granite wall blocked off the sky.

“You’re aware the train may not be adhering to schedule?”

“It is,” she said.

“Zero,” said the timer as they roared into the tunnel. Their lights flashed against stone walls. The track raced beneath them.

“I hope you understand that disconnecting the pilot is a misdemeanor, punishable by fine or imprisonment or both.”

“Please keep your mind on what you’re doing,” she said.

“Were you aware that battery capacity is quite low?”

“Yes.”

“There seems to have been an accident. How could you have burned out the system?”

“Let it go for now, Jerry. Get us out the other end and I’ll replace everything. Promise.”

“That’s very strange.”

“What is?”

“Another vehicle has just entered the tunnel behind us.”

“Good.” The shroud was going to have a hard time in the flyer’s wake. “Got you, you son of a bitch.”

The flyer’s lights stabbed ahead into the dark. Kim clung to her chair arms, pushing herself back hard in the seat. The walls were slowing down.

She glanced at the gauges. They’d dropped to 170 kph. And they were still dropping. “Jerry—”

“Kim, we cannot maintain stability at this velocity.”

“You can’t slow down, Jerry. We’ve got to stay at two hundred klicks. Or we won’t get out the other end.”

“Can’t be done. Not without hitting the wall.”

“Jerry—”

“I did not create this situation.” The voice was accusing. Petulant.

It was 9:37. They had five minutes to clear the tunnel. “Jerry, we have to try–”

“I am sorry. I have no alternative but to slow to a manageable velocity.”

They were dropping past 150.

“It’s a question of probability. There is none that we can negotiate this tunnel at the minimum velocity you require. There is a slight possibility the train will be late. If it is—”

She pulled the plug on him and tried to take over but the tunnel walls were roaring by too fast, she couldn’t control the vehicle and had to drop even more speed, down past 120, past a hundred.

The shroud had fallen well behind, but it was still coming.

At 9:40 she was just barely halfway through.

She touched eighty and steadied. The world was slowing. With a pang of regret she thought of Solly, of dying young, of the mystery she would not live to solve.

The timer counted down to 9:42:45. The freight was in the tunnel, or damned soon would be, the two vehicles bearing down on each other at a combined speed of three hundred kilometers per hour.

Not good.

The guide rail bumped the bottom of the aircraft. Kim held on, slowed more.

Ahead, a light flickered. The single searching beam of the freight’s headlamp.

School was out.

She fired the retros and the flyer came down on the track, skidded, turned, pitched over the side into the lower level and slammed into the wall. Kim was thrown hard against her restraints. The cabin lights went out, something crackled and began to burn, and she ended up hanging upside down in her seat.

The tunnel walls, ceiling, guide-rail supports, everything disappeared into the blazing cone of the oncoming headlight.

She was down on the lower level, the flyer jammed in nose first, its tail sticking up in the path of the freight. Kim hit the release and fell out of her seat.

She kicked the door open and scrambled out. The tunnel shook.

She staggered forward a few meters, trying to get clear of the aircraft, and caught a final glimpse of the shroud, which was silhouetted in the oncoming glare.

The track was supported by stanchions, one every ten meters or so. Kim threw herself at the base of the nearest one, grabbed hold, and buried her head. The train boomed past and ripped into the wrecked flyer. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to burrow down into the concrete as a hurricane of wind and screeching metal rolled over her. The ground rocked.