Starfire

38

The climber picked his way with carefully selected hand-and footholds up a sheer face of naked rock; the foot soldier marched forward with pike at the ready toward a waiting enemy; the captain wrestled with the steering wheel of his ship, fighting to keep the bow into the wind while the tempest raged; the hunter tracked a wounded tiger through the deep forest.

John Hyslop, in his youthful imagination, had been all of them. Fed on stories of old adventures, he had fought and conquered a hundred dangers. The difference between early fantasies and today’s reality was simple: Then, his own actions had defined the line between success and failure. Now, as danger came closer, nothing that he did would make any difference.

The terms of engagement had been decided days and weeks ago. The defenses were the best that humans could make. They were working as well as could be expected, given the haste in creating them and the crude modifications to the old design. Now it was John’s fate to take on the role of spectator, waiting to learn who and what might survive.

But even a spectator can be in danger. John jerked away as, two meters to his left, a particle bundle blasted into and through the information center. He heard the now-familiar staccato ping and saw a blue flash of Cerenkov radiation. He glanced around to make sure that no one had been hurt, and returned his attention to the displays.

Working as well as could be expected. That did not mean perfect. Close to one percent of the particle bundles were eluding the field loops. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Someday — if all went well, and certainly not today — he would find out what had gone wrong. For the moment, he had to accept that there were going to be casualties, on Sky City as well as back on Earth. Or the other way round: On Earth, as it is in heaven. No one, so far, had been hurt in the information center, but urgent announcements had called for medical assistance on the perimeter levels of Sky City.

The perimeter levels. The exclusive levels, the expensive levels. Particle bundles drew no distinction between rich and poor, and there was no secondary form of protection that a wealthy man might buy. Once a bundle was past the defensive line, nothing could stop it.

John was aware that the information center was filling up. He saw that Maddy was here. He had watched her leave at the first onset of the storm, but he had not noticed her return. She gave him a thousand-watt smile and came closer. Will Davis and Rico Ruggiero had drifted back into the room and were hovering over by one of the main displays. If you were not involved in emergency services, looking after people who were hit, or making repairs to damaged equipment, there was little to do but watch and wait.

He noted the pulse rate of the field generators. It had reached a maximum value, and neither prayer nor tinkering could increase the frequency of the pulses.

He did not propose to advertise the fact that the defense system was at its limit, so that now too few loop pulses were being generated to provide complete protection. The defense system automatically allocated as many loop fields as were needed to ensure an acceptably low number of bundles at the detectors and field generators. That zone of relative safety covered Cusp Station and Sky City and extended a few kilometers beyond their edges. Within the zone the hit rate was constant at about one bundle per minute per ten square meters. Outside the zone, the number of bundles getting through was rising. The monitors said it was already far beyond anything seen during the blip storm. Earth must be taking a hammering, although there was no direct proof of that. Uplink and downlink communication was proceeding more or less as usual, even though the particle flux rate would go through the roof in another twenty minutes.

The ping of an arriving bundle sounded again through the information center. John glanced to his left. One of the data technicians, a middle-aged woman sitting in front at a control desk in front of Will Davis and Rico Ruggiero, had been hit. She was staring down at her own midriff, where a neat round hole had been punched to the right of her navel. She said, in a wondering voice, “Son of a bitch. Will you look at that? It got me!” Then she crumpled to the floor of the information center without another word.

John watched long enough to be sure that she was carried away for treatment. The position of the particle bundle indicated that it had passed through one lobe of her liver and perhaps the ascending colon. Neither wound would be fatal, but she might be the first of many.

He turned his attention back to the displays. It had been Amanda Corrigan’s idea to color-code the data on the number of bundles getting through the defenses versus their position on the surface of the space shield. Blue meant a safe zone — as much as anywhere could be safe, given the certainty of random penetration whenever a loop field failed to do its job. Red was the danger area, behind which Earth would be hardest hit. Amanda had probably never expected to see it this way, but the whole shield, viewed end-on, had become a rainbow of light. It ranged from the blue-violet bull’s-eye of the cone end beyond Cusp Station and Sky City, out to an angry orange ring close to the outward edge of the shield. In those regions, the protection offered to Earth was negligible. Even beyond that was an annular zone of dull red where there was no protection at all. Particle bundles in that region would hit the planet’s atmosphere, but not the planet itself. The surface would be affected only by secondary particles and radiation.

He swiveled his chair to take in activities in the information center. Every chair at every desk and panel was occupied, as it should be. The problem was, no one had anything useful to do. Even if the field generators failed to function, it would be impossible to reach and repair them before the particle wave hit its crest. Everyone, John himself included, had become no more than a spectator.

He knew that was true, but not everyone did. Young trainees like Jilly Wong and Al Morcelli thought that the senior engineers of Sky City were like gods, able to fix anything. Their eyes were on him now, waiting for him and the seniors to perform miracles.

John stood up. “All right.” He forced himself to speak louder than usual. This was the sort of thing he hated doing. “You’ve done a great job, but now it’s time to think of your own safety. This information center is close to the forward face of Sky City. It’s much safer at the rear face, where the bulk of the city shields us from the particle bundles. I’d like everyone to go there now. I’ll join you after I’ve taken care of a few details here.”

He saw Will Davis’s lopsided smile. The other engineer’s eyes signaled to John, That’s a crock of shit, boyo, and you know it. The particle bundles whip right through Sky City like it’s a paper bag. But I know what you’re doing.

Aloud, Will called in his best sergeant-major’s voice, “All right, everybody. You heard what the boss said. Another half hour, and we’ll all be home free. So let’s go sit it out in some safe place.”

It took a few seconds, but after a final glance at John and at the screens the others in the information center stood up and began to file out.

Finally there remained only John, Will, and Maddy. Will gave John another glance and said to Maddy, “It’s a lot safer—”

“I know what it’s like near the rear face, Will. I’ve been there, trying to help injured people. It’s no safer than here. The bundles have easily enough energy to pass right through Sky City.”

“Aye, well, if you know that—”

“But it would be good if you and John would go back there. Your presence will give people reassurance.”

John said simply, “I can’t. I must stay with the information center. We’re still trying to get signals through to Earth.”

“You, then, Will. You should go. I can stay with John.”

“But . . .” Will Davis frowned. “Maddy, this makes no sense. I’m the one who should stay.”

“Why? To show us you’re brave? We already know that. And it’s no more dangerous here than it is with the others near the rear face. I know. I’ve been there.”

Davis looked to John Hyslop, who nodded. “Take off if you like, Will. There’s nothing for you to do here — nothing for anybody to do but watch. If things go wrong, you’ll know it as soon as I do.”

“That’s one way to put it. All right, I’ll go and cheer up the trainees.”

“Why just them?” Maddy asked.

“Because I can’t cheer up the other engineers. They know too much.”

He turned and wandered out of the information center. John decided that Will might not be the man to comfort anybody. He certainly hadn’t gone out of his way to reassure Maddy.

As Will was leaving he passed Star Vjansander coming in. John, ignoring the displays for a moment, asked her, “Any new ideas?”

“Not a sausage.” Star sat down by his side. “Except me and Wilmer think maybe our old ideas are wrong. I suppose yer might call it progress.”

“I’d like something more definite than that.”

“Well, wait a few minutes an’ yer’ll likely get it.” Star gazed at the displays. “Only seventeen minutes ter flux peak. Then we’ll really have data.”

She waited a few moments and added, “We’ll have it. But I’m not saying we’ll like what we get.”