Molly Fyde and the Blood of Billions by Hugh Howey

Author:Hugh Howey [Howey, Hugh]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Space Opera
ISBN: 9780982611920
Publisher: Broad Reach Publishing
Published: 2010-06-01T11:55:05+00:00

28

Edison grunted and stood up from another of the Bern comp-uters. “Complete data destruction,” he said. “I hypothesize demagnetization.”

Anlyn frowned and stepped close to the control station’s carboglass window. Looking out, she could see their borrowed Bern ship locked to the end of the long coupling corridor. After the first few computers were found perfectly clean, she had assumed they all would be. Edison, bless him, thought the sampling size was “statistically insignificant,” and had insisted they check several more.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked, smiling at his reflection in the glass.

“They scuttled their endeavor completely,” he said.

Anlyn nodded. “Which still leaves us wondering if they gave up or just changed tactics.”

“I disagree.”

Anlyn turned to give him her full attention. Edison spoke while re-moving the battery and power inverter he’d been using to temporarily juice up the computers. “The Bern abstained from fleeing this structure in haste, nor did they sulk off in defeat. They methodically scrubbed everything.” Edison aimed a claw at a patch of the rubberized decking. “Impressions there and there indicate removed equipment containing much mass. Equipment repurposed elsewhere.”

“Yeah, but where? And why leave this place unguarded?”

Edison gestured beyond Anlyn. “Visualize. These structures are devoid of defenses. No impediments to movement, no blockades, all open vectors of sight, all engineered for offense, a launching pad for unbridled attack.”

Anlyn frowned. “With no worry of reprisal?” she asked.

Edison shook his head. “Without Drenardian fear,” he said. “More parallel to a Glemot’s clinical precision. You must cogitate as a Bern.”

Anlyn gazed back out the window, imagining the way she would set things up if she were expecting an attack. Edison was right. Her side of the rift was purely defensive, and she couldn’t help but think that way. For generations, her people had held the lines, learning how to build trenches that never budged. This side was all seek-and-destroy.

“It still doesn’t make sense to leave in such a hurry,” she said. “You think they just jumped into a star because it gave them a way around our barrier? Then why didn’t we hear about them from Bishar? Surely if an invasion had begun he’d have been notified by the Circle.”

“You’ve stated the exact quandary I’ve been pondering.”

Edison came over and rested a hand on Anlyn’s shoulder. “What be-comes of interstellar craft that hyperjump into preexisting mass?”

Anlyn shrugged and lifted her empty hands, palm up. “They disap-pear?”

“Precisely, but to what location?”

“Nobody knows—they never come back.”

“Include this variable: assume the Bern determined a reliable method for returning.”

“Returning from where?”

“Hyperspace.”

Anlyn frowned. “Hyperspace isn’t a place, though, is it? It’s just a made-up name. An idea.”

“That is one possibility, statistically likely, perhaps. However, some-thing interconnects point A to all possible point C’s. Travel requires existence. Movement must be analog, not digital. Objects occupy all states between.”

Anlyn scrunched up her face, trying to follow along. “The point B’s, you mean?”

“Correct. It’s not theoretically impossible that myriad such points constitute a physical place hyperjumpers travel through. If that sup-position is correct, one logical conclusion could also explain—”

“What happens to bad navigators,” Anlyn finished for him.

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