Charles Sheffield - Starfire

A faint and unidentifiable man’s voice sounded from the audio channel. “We make it five minutes to maximum flux, and I hope to hell that’s right because we’re taking quite a beating here. Our monitors show a Southern Hemisphere temperature rise of thirty-eight Celsius, and still climbing. Sky City, can you hear me? Are you able to confirm that number with bolometric readings and thermal IR?”

John began speaking into a microphone. Maddy, close as she was, could not hear his reply, but the display suddenly changed. The image still outlined the continents and oceans of Earth, but the colors on the globe were different. She had no idea how to interpret that until Will Davis said, “Thermal map, radiance corrected for emissivity and differenced from yesterday’s numbers. We’re looking at big temperature increases down there.”

His remark was intended for the young technician next to him, not Maddy, but she examined the display with new understanding. The particle storm was scorching a wide swath on the turning Earth. Although the hottest region corresponded to latitude sixty degrees south, directly below Alpha C, there were changes all the way down to the South Pole and north to beyond the equator. Thirty-eight degrees Celsius. The difference between a cold winter’s day and a hot summer’s one. And that was an average increase. If the particle bundles didn’t kill the plants and animals in the red zone, heat would. Thank God it was the Southern Hemisphere, where there was less land area. The southern oceans formed a huge heat reservoir and would not easily be warmed beyond the surface.

She looked at the countdown below the display. Four minutes to storm peak. After that the particle bundles would still be coming but the number of hits should start to diminish. Maybe her sense of time was distorted. The number of bundles bursting through the information center didn’t seem to have increased during the past quarter hour. If anything, it seemed a shade less.

She was ready to dismiss that as her own wishful thinking when a new voice came from the speaker. This time it was a woman, barely making sense above the static. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, or exactly what you’re doing up there, but keep it up. We’re hanging in. If it doesn’t get worse than this, there’s a chance we’ll make it all the way.”

Will Davis said, softly enough so that only the people nearest to him could hear, “What the hell are we doing, John ? We were at the limit of the defense system when I left, and that was half an hour ago. I thought that by now Sky City would be a sieve and Earth would be beyond contact.”

“So did I.” John Hyslop stood up and turned to where Star Vjansander lay on the floor in a near-obscene sprawl of bare limbs. “What’s going on, Star? We made our estimates based on the numbers that you and Wilmer gave us. How come they’re so far off?”

“Yer got me.” She stared up at him and rolled her chocolate-dark eyes. “Wilmer and me got no more idea than you do. He said yer’d be on ter us as a couple of silly buggers soon as yer saw the counts was wrong. But I calc’lated the convergence right, I swear it. The beam’s narrowing in; no other way ter read the Sniffer data. But we’re not seeing near enough particle bundles.”

“You mean enough to match your blessed theory,” Will Davis said. He had turned away from John Hyslop to face Star. “For me, there’s more than enough—”

Maddy heard the sharp sound of a particle bundle ripping its way through metal. Will paused and gave an odd grunting cough. Maddy, standing behind him, saw the hole appear in his back just above his waist. At the same time the big display on the front wall went dark.

“Will’s hit!” she cried, and a moment later realized there was more. John had been between Will and the forward wall. The particle bundle had entered the information center, passed through John’s body, through Will, and gone on its way. Will was on his feet, standing and swaying and clutching at his middle. But John was falling.

Maddy lunged forward and was able to catch him and lower him to the floor. She looked in terror for the wound. Will was a good deal taller, and John had been looking down toward Star Vjansander. If it was his head or spinal column — It was his neck. The bundle had entered right rear and exited left center-front, by the Adam’s apple. Spinal cord intact. No spout of blood from jugular or carotid; with any luck no major blood vessels had been cut. Nerve damage they’d fix later. Breathing, hard but fairly normal. The windpipe must be intact.

Or was it? His eyes were open, staring up at Maddy. He seemed to be trying to speak, but no words came out. Vocal cords affected? The bundle had missed the Adam’s apple itself, but it was close. There might be other damage.

“John!”

Nothing but harsh breathing. Eyes trying to talk to her.

Maddy glanced up. “A doctor — we need a doctor!”

“Call’s gone out.” A burly engineer crouched beside her. “Don’t mess with him if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Did she? One course, thirteen years ago. His head was on the hard floor. She slipped her right hand underneath, providing support, raising his head as little as possible. She felt wetness on her hand and looked down. John’s fall had opened his wound and he was bleeding at the back of the neck. Didn’t seem too bad, a little pool on the floor. So long as he was breathing and remained conscious . . .

Where was the doctor?

Maddy looked up again. Will Davis was still standing, his hands held on his belly three inches to the right of his navel. If the vigor of his cursing was anything to go by, his wound was not life-threatening.

Where was the damned doctor?

The big-screen display was back in operation. Two minutes to storm maximum. The view was no longer of Earth. Now the imaging sensors showed the defense system at work as it was seen from the front of Cusp Station. The whole of the shield scintillated with tiny flashing points, too many and too briefly lit to count. The incoming particle bundles were detected crossing the shield. Sky City received the information and computed trajectories. The field generators threw their electromagnetic nooses out at light speed. What Maddy saw was the field loop as the field caught and diverted the particle bundle away from the shield. When Maddy said it that way, John had insisted on correcting her. Maddy was actually seeing the radiation that the charged particle emitted when it was accelerated.

Engineers. Logic, accuracy, precision. No room for emotion. Would he die without emotion, cool and calm?

No!

She turned back to John, wondering what she could say. “Just two more minutes, and we’ll be over the worst.”

She was appalled at her own words. Intended to reassure him, sure, but what did the particle storm matter if he was dying?

His lips were moving. She bent low, her right ear to his mouth.

“Don’t go to Earth.” It was a thread of sound, a whisper so faint that it was as much imagined as heard. “Stay here.”

She jerked up and stared down into his face. It was white and drained. His eyes were wide. His lips still moved, soundlessly.

Again she bent over him. Blood from the pool on the floor was soaking her knees.

“Stay here.” Fainter yet. “With me. Forever. Will you?” And then, puzzled, “Why we alive? Maddy? Why not all dead? Maddy . . .”

His eyes began to close. She straightened up. “John—” Before she could say more a pair of hands grabbed her and lifted.

“Out of the way.” It was a huge woman in a nurse’s outfit, the front of it filthy with blood. She picked Maddy up like a baby, set her down three feet away, and turned at once to John.