Кристофер Банч - Empire's End

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ENDGAME

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

"ALL SYSTEMS GREEN. Entry to be effected in twenty seconds…"

There is a moment that confronts every sentient being. When moral imperative collides with survival in the shadow world that lies between decision and action.

The moment can be as simple as a choice between a lie and a self-destructive truth.

It can be as complex as a choice between the suffering of many or a moral and legal obligation to the few.

Theologians call it "free will."

There is no scientific term for this moment, although medical techs can trace with precision the effects of the inward struggle on the organism.

In humans, hormone and adrenal glands spurt their powerful mix into the system. Organs such as the heart and lungs speed up their actions. Fluid pressure and body temperature rise. Blood oxygen levels soar, especially in the muscles and the brain. Infection-fighting cells ready their chemical weapons to stave off attack. In extreme reactions, waste organs spasm empty—to lessen the chances of infection if the body is violently penetrated. The skin tightens to present a harder and smoother surface against a weapon. Sweat glands gape to pour out perspiration as the body's cooling system jumps to full readiness. The perspiration also acts as a lubricant between the limbs and the trunk of the body. In a man, the scrotum tightens and the testes rise to present a smaller, tougher target.

That's what science says.

Sten would have it said it was nothing more than plain animal fear.

He crouched alone on the small bridge of the tacship staring at the ship's monitor. Watching space rain fire. Sten had never seen or experienced anything like Alva Sector.

The tacship's voice rasped over the speaker: " Entry will be effected in ten seconds …"

His mathematical mind—the side that also contains poetry and music—acknowledged beauty. Saw wonder in the ultimate disharmony at play in the forces unleashed where two universes touched.

But his soul saw nothing but a hole into Hell.

" Entry will be effected in nine seconds ," came the speaker voice.

Sten watched a small comet streak toward the discontinuity. Tendrils ablaze with scintillants snaked out for it. Enveloped it. The comet shattered with such violence, the pixels on the monitor screen exploded into white glare.

He steadied himself. Reached deep within and got a grip on the fear. He turned it this way and that, studying it by the light of his rational mind.

" Entry will be effected in eight seconds ," the voice continued.

Sten wasn't afraid of sharing the fate of the comet. Well… to be honest… only a little afraid. The tacship—as well as every item that might be exposed to the raw anti-particles of the other universe—had been plated with Imperium X in a lightning stop on Vi—huge deposits of the substance lay just beyond the Wolf Worlds.

In theory, he should be able to slip through the discontinuity into the other universe unscathed. He'd already sent a probe through and it had returned unharmed.

Therefore… what was there to fear? The Emperor's security? The dogs he would have set to watch over his treasure? No. Sten imagined whatever he might encounter would be clever and fierce. But, he'd overcome those two dogs before, and trusted enough in himself to overcome them again.

"… seven seconds …"

What then? Sten sent his mind after that probe. Attempting to imagine himself on the other side. In an entirely different reality. An angry thing with a dripping red maw rose at him. He wasn't wanted. He didn't belong. Every thing… every minuscule particle… would be his enemy in that place. Even in his imagination, the hate was intense.

And he would be… absolutely… alone.

More than any other human had ever been. With one exception.

The Eternal Emperor.

"… six seconds …"

What made the fear burn hotter was that this was a choice he could reject. The crawling coward in him was weeping in its pit. Begging him not to go. Why must it be his responsibility? Let someone else do it. And if no one would, then clot them all. He could run and hide where the Emperor could not find him. And if he tracked him down, Sten could face him on braver ground. So what if the cause was lost? So what if everyone could be doomed?

They might die.

He might die.

But, at least he wouldn't have to go into that place.

All he had to do was hit the switch and the mission would be aborted.

"… five seconds …"

His hand lay just to the side of it. Sweating and cold.

"… four seconds …"

A twitch would shut that damned voice off.

"… three seconds …"

The coward in his gut shrilled, "It isn't too late!"

His fingers curled.

"… two seconds …"

Mahoney's voice floated up to him from the grave: "Make the devil into a fist lad. And strike a blow!"

"… one second …"

Sten's fingers knotted down. Bloodless with effort. Fighting panic.

" Entry will now begin ," the voice said.

Sten kept his eyes glued to the monitor as the tacship shot forward and closed on the gates of Hell.

so small…

piteous and small…

and they all want to…

kill me.

i don't want to die here…

please.

no one knows me…

here.

no one .

cares.

my eyes are…

bitter.

and i taste colors on…

my tongue.

someone…

someone is watching.

where?

i'm afraid.

where is he?

out there.

who is he?

i'm afraid.

who is he?

i don't know.

he's watching… and… i'm…

so small.

Sten vomited into the bucket he had put beside his seat. He snapped open a freshpac and swabbed his face and neck with a cool astringent. He rinsed his mouth with stregg and spit into the bucket.

Then he raised the bottle to his lips and drank. Deeply.

The stregg shuddered and boiled in his belly. But he kept it down. He took another drink. Felt the fire build. It was warm and comfortable and familiar. Like a hearth.

Sten rose from his chair and went through stretching motions. He felt the knots unsnarl and blood sing in his veins. Then he went through the complete Mantis warm-up. A half hour of blinding motion and violent ballet.

He went into the small sanitary facility and took a shower just below blistering temperature. He followed it with an icy blast that sent his heart racing and brought the blood up stinging just below the surface of his skin.

He put on a clean shipsuit, made caff, and padded back to the bridge, with a steaming black cup in his hand. He calmly eyed the data streaming in from the ship's sensors. The mainframe's control module winked and gurgled as the computer fed on the data. Once in a while it gave a red-light hiccup as it digested a more complicated bit.

Sten nodded. Good. He sipped on his caff.

Feeling quite normal.

In a few moments the computer survey would be completed.

The basic laws of this universe would be deciphered. The ship's computer would redefine its own reality.

And Sten and the ship would no longer be blind.

He settled into his seat to wait, sipping at the caff, his mind clear, but settled on nothing, his eyes on the rushing stream of data as if he could actually decipher and make sense of anything moving at such speed.

Sten was carving out a place for himself in this new universe the only way he knew how. Which was—routine. It was an old soldier's trick. Someone experienced in constant changes of post. No matter how distant from home, or bizarre the inhabitants, strangeness can be overcome by establishing a routine. Little things. Familiar things. Selfish things. Like washing and grooming. The first hot, bitter cup of caff at the shift start. And the cool, uninvolved appraisal of the mission to be accomplished.

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