Swallow the Sky: A Space Opera (28 page)

“Good to see you. Aiyana,
take the console on my right. Focus on Number Eight Drive – it has a tendency
to overheat and I don’t trust our system’s calibration.”

Caelin threw herself into
a large chair; she peeled off her shoes and placed both feet on interface
plates, then slapped her hands on two more. Immediately she was surrounded by a
hemisphere of images. This was one plugged-in woman.

“What can I do?” said
Carson.

“Go over to the visitors’
pen and keep them away from me” she said. Seeing his expression she added
“believe me, if you can do that you are really helping.”

Carson shrugged and
wandered over to the corral. By now at least two hundred visitors had appeared.
One group stood out: an impeccably dressed man stood surrounded by a knot of
people who seemed more interested in him than the event. He was listening
intently to the Operations Center manager as she pointed to the Palace’s image.

“Welcome back” said a
voice behind him. Carson turned round to see Rasul. “I trust you found
somewhere to camp.”

“Yeah, thanks. You’re not
working?”

The Treasurer grinned. “No
counting filthy lucre on lift day. I’ve been press-ganged into helping with the
Important Personage.” He rolled his eyes. “The King is making a morale-boosting
visit.”

“
Two minutes to lift
”
an announcer said.

Everyone began to gather
round the giant image of the Palace. Carson glanced over to where Caelin was
seated. She and Aiyana were as motionless as statues as they absorbed the data
pouring in through their interfaces.

“How many lifts have you
guys made?” he asked Rasul.

“Hundreds planet-wide,
virtually all of them large industrial facilities – it doesn’t make sense to
move smaller structures. But this is no factory; parts of the imperial compound
are over two thousand years old – it’s like trying to transport a billion
eggshells and hoping none of them break.”

“
Ten seconds to
severance
”

They watched an ancillary
display that showed the underside of the Palace. The bedrock had been carved
away so that entire structure now sat on a huge slab of granite, which in turn was
supported by a matrix of columns, each circled by a thick red band of high explosives.

“Zero”

The columns disappeared
in a billow of rock dust that was quickly suppressed by inertial dampeners. As
the clouds cleared they saw that each pillar had been cut. The Palace was now
floating on air, supported by the giant push drives.

“Verifying structural
integrity”

“In other words,” said
Rasul, “making sure the explosions didn’t knock any bits off.”

“Initiating ascent”

No-one in the room breathed
as the Palace crept upwards. Through the windows the carved vertical edge of
the support table came into view as the structure rose above the surrounding
ground.

“Looking grea–” Carson
began to say.

“Emergency systems
halt”

Silence turned into a
worried murmur as everyone searched around seeking an explanation. Carson
earned his keep by politely blocking the path of two media reporters trying to
invade the business end of the room to find out what had happened. They need not
have bothered; one of the displays zoomed in to the edge of the channel that
had been cut around the Palace. A superconducting cable stretched taut between
the floating granite table and a massive portable Higgs engine located on the adjacent
ground. The mobile recorder moved in closer. The cable had sheared as planned
but somehow it had managed to wrap itself around one of the stanchions
anchoring the engine to the bedrock.

The statue of Caelin came
to life. “Get a cutting crew out there” she bellowed.

But Aiyana was already
moving. “I’m on it boss!” she yelled as she ran across the floor.

“Honey, leave it to the
crew” Carson shouted after her. If there was one thing he had learned in his
long life it was never get too close to very large moving objects, especially
when they were under non-human control. But it was no use; Aiyana was
disappearing through the door. Carson swore and sprinted after her. By the time
he got outside she was straddling the scooter.

“Come on” she cried
thinking that he wanted to join in the fun.

Carson climbed on behind
her. “Darling” he shouted in her ear as they zipped towards the Palace “that
cable has a monomolecular sheath – you don’t have anything that could possibly
cut it.”

“Oh yes I do” she yelled over
her shoulder.

They landed by the Higgs
engine. Directly in front of them the edge of the granite table trembled five
meters above the surrounding ground. Normally push drives were as silent as
hunting birds, but the giant Wartsila-Sulzers engines howled. Carson winced at
the thought of the titanic forces surrounding them.

Aiyana was fiddling with
something she had pulled out from her flight suit; it was Renshu’s plasma gun. A
bolt of energy shot out from the weapon and splashed against the permafrost. They
both jumped.

“Well that works, I’m
setting it to maximum.”

Carson realized there was
no stopping her. His best plan was to help Aiyana cut the damn cable as quickly
as possible and get the hell out. She knelt over the stanchion where the five
centimeter-thick cable was trapped. Shielding her face with one arm she pointed
the flaring handgun.

It actually seemed to be
working. The black sheath glowed white, melted, and began to evaporate. By the
time the gun flamed out only a centimeter-wide strip was left. Aiyana tossed the
weapon aside, picked up a rock, and started pounding at the last scrap of
super-strong material. Carson grabbed another and joined in. The final carbon
threads began to fray, though it was due more to the enormous tension than
their efforts.

“Any moment now” Aiyana
said panting.

Carson ran his eyes along
the cable. “We’ve got to get out of the way!”

“Huh?”

As the last strands began
to break Carson leapt forward and grabbed Aiyana. They both crashed to the
ground as the cable snapped and whiplashed over their prone bodies. They
struggled to their feet the Palace renewed its ascent.

The vertical face of the granite
table crept upwards in front of them, the roar of the Wartsila-Sulzers
increasing as they cleared the surrounding trench. Now they could see the hewn
underside studded with broken columns and the giant drives flickering with blue
Cherenkov radiation.

Push drives work by shoving
against the very fabric of the universe, reaching down to the smallest of
scales where gravity becomes a repulsive force. Normally, the only
manifestation of their functioning is the generation of thrust, but here in the
face of so much power it was different. For one brief moment Carson felt his
mind turn inside out as the electrons in his brain tried to join the dance with
the compactified dimensions. Then it was over as the rough-hewn table rose up
into the sky.

They turned at the sound
of a hatch banging open and saw three suited figures unloading a tool that
would, no doubt, have sliced the cable in seconds. Seeing that they were too
late the cutting crew stopped and joined them in watching the ascent. All of
them stared in silence until the ragged outline disappeared into the clouds.

A small cheer went up when
they got to the operations center but the center of attention was the main
display; the three-dimensional image was continuing to track the Palace as it
rose into the upper atmosphere. In the background they could see the curve of
the world and above it, the deep black of space. Sunlight danced off the gabled
roofs and highlighted a confection of columns, cornices, piazzas, turrets,
pillars, and statues. Amazingly, the Imperial pennants still flapped in the
near vacuum. “Nice touch,” someone explained, “built-in actuators”.

A shoal of craft spiraled
down from the mesosphere like the corps de ballet greeting the principal
dancer.

“System integration
with interplanetary escort… preparing for handover… transfer of control
completed.”

The whole room erupted
with cheering.

Caelin leapt up from her
consol. “That’s a wrap. Terrific job everyone.” She strode through the crowd
shaking hands. Finally she got across the room.

“Our hero!” she said to
Aiyana and seizing her by the scruff of the neck kissed her hard on the mouth.

She slapped Carson on the
back. “Good work! One whole hero is definitely better than two halves.”

“Thanks” he said, “although
Aiyana, darling, you should have left it to the professionals.”

“Oh spank me!” she cried.

Caelin raised an eyebrow
and exchanged a smile with Carson.

Rasul pushed through the
crowd. “Hey you three, come on over. The King wants to meet you.”

Gustav the Eighth,
surrounded by a cloud of courtiers, was the picture of calm civility. He was a
tall, pale man, and apart from his immaculate clothes the only unusual thing
about him were the ghosts of old dueling scars on both cheeks. Caelin was
introduced first.

“Senior Operative Caelin”
he said, “we are delighted to meet you. Congratulations on your splendid
effort.”

“Thank you sir” she
replied, giving him a crisp handshake and assuming parade rest. “It was an
honor to work on lifting the Palace. A couple of last minute glitches but
otherwise a smooth project.”

“Ah yes, the cable. Engineer
Aiyana, thank you for your quick initiative. We were thrilled!”

Aiyana simpered. Gustav
turned to Carson. “And Commonwealth Mail Carrier Carson, we understand you made
a timely delivery of funding from New Earth.”

“I’m glad to have helped
sir but to be honest we had no idea any of this was happening until we
arrived.”

“Yes, it has all been so
sudden. Still, we are all united in our efforts. Orpheus must and will
survive.”

He turned to Caelin. “We
trust you will take a pause in your work to celebrate.”

“Absolutely sir.” She
raised her voice to the general crowd. “First round’s on me, everyone!”

The King also spoke up. “We
must invoke royal precedence. Today’s festivities will be financed by the Imperial
Privy Purse.”

This invoked the second biggest
cheer of the day. Workstations were thrown into automatic and soon everyone was
pouring out of the operations center.

“And we think we will
join you” Gustav added.

A courtier leaned in. “Sir,
you have a meeting with the Prime Minister in thirty minutes.”

“Then you should not
delay in notifying her that we will be late” the King replied without turning
his head.

The group stepped outside.
As they crossed the frigid ground Carson darted off to where the scooter was
parked and came trotting over with four bottles.

“I thought we’d be
celebrating today so I packed these.” He handed one bottle to the Gustav.

“Good grief, Wurlington
Brown! Our grandfather used to drink this. We never expected to see it again.”

As they entered the
commissary a cluster of panes overhead transmuted themselves into an image of
the Royal Seal.

“We hosted countless
garden parties in this tent” the king said. “Now it serves a more practical
function, as do we all.”

They sat down at a large
table where they were joined by some of the local bigwigs. Carson popped open
two bottles of the venerable beer and poured a round.

“This takes one back”
Gustav said. “When we were a boy our grandfather would let us have a taste from
his goblet. What a unique flavor!”

“It puts hair on your
chest” Aiyana chimed in, invoking a splutter from Caelin.

“Alas, the royal cellar
is much depleted. We sold most of the classic vintages to help raise money for
the lift.”

The King’s comment
aroused the dealer in Carson. “I imagine that the Imperial household must have
acquired some fascinating pieces over the centuries.”

“Indeed – many of our
ancestors were connoisseurs of the fine arts. The Palace was a veritable treasure
house but now most of the artifacts reside in the Huan Federation as collateral
on loans.”

“Oh God, you had to hock
everything?” Aiyana shouted.

The King laughed. “That
would be a concise way of describing our predicament. We understand our
collection is to be housed in a splendid new wing of the Federation Museum of
Art. That is fitting, as we may finally have to sell.”

“In addition to being a
mailman sir, I collect antiques, and I would advise you to be very cautious in
any transactions.”
In other words they’ll rob you blind
Carson added to
himself. “I would be happy to send you a list of dealers on New Earth who can
be trusted to help you get a fair price, should it come to a sale.”

“That would be helpful. At
least the Huan people created a thorough catalog. Perhaps you would like to see
it.”

Gustav raised his hand
and a courtier magically appeared holding a recorder which he placed in front
the monarch. The King touched the device and a three dimensional image of the
Palace materialized on the table; the viewpoint zoomed inside to a spacious
room filled with artwork and antiques.

Carson spotted a small
device in the corner. “That’s a Manning diamond laminator – over three thousand
years old but as far as I can see still in excellent condition.”

“Indeed it is” said the
King. “As a boy, we played a game with our brother of laminating the most
unlikely objects. We once stole the toast from the breakfast table and the next
morning my grandfather sat down a rack of diamond-encrusted slices.”

“May I?” Gustav nodded
and Carson placed his hand on the recorder. Information about the laminator
flowed through his palm.

“This item is seriously
undervalued. The estimate says five hundred thousand Ecus, but a working model
should go for three times that. In fact, Manning Industries still exists; they
have a museum of their equipment at their headquarters on New Mars. I bet they
would pay at least two million to add it to their collection.”