Schild’s Ladder

Tchicaya said, "Thanks." He waited, watching numbly as the necklace of the ship continued to recede. He was tumbling slowly around an axis that almost coincided with the direction of his motion; the Rindler never vanished from sight, but the horizon between the border and the stars wheeled in front of him.

Branco said, "Plan A might not be possible. They’ve glued the shuttle’s release bolts in place."

Tchicaya pondered this, dreamily amused for a moment. The sheer strangeness of his situation had induced a sense of detachment; it was a struggle to think his way back into events on the ship.

"What’s happening at the hub?"

"We reviewed what the climbers were doing earlier, in the instrumentation bay," Branco replied. "They were building a particle detector, with some powerful superconducting magnets. Which are now part of the devices they have with them."

"The fuel must be shielded, though? Against stray magnetic fields?" The antimatter portion was kept in a purely magnetic container; that had to be robust.

"Do you have any idea how many orders of magnitude difference there is between stray interstellar fields and the strongest artificial ones?"

Tchicaya took this question to be rhetorical. "How close are Rasmah and the others?" He didn’t want to look for himself; he just wanted Branco to give him the good news.

"They’re close. But the rebels are already at the hub, setting things up."

"And you believe they might be capable of spilling the fuel?"

"We can’t rule that out. It will depend how good their device is. If they’re smart, and if they have time, they could pump energy into two different flows that the containment fields couldn’t restrain simultaneously."

Tchicaya said nothing. He closed his eyes. He’d screwed up, he’d let his guard down with the anachronauts, but Rasmah was unshakable. She’d stop them, if she got the chance.

Branco said, "We’re now seeing flows developing in the fuel." His voice betrayed no hint of panic. After the loss of the Scribe, he’d told Tchicaya that he’d been through local death seven hundred and ninety-six times, but even if he was immune to existential qualms, the prospect of losing contact with the border had to be painful. "Listen to me carefully. There’s no way we’re going to get the shuttle free in the next few minutes, but we could use the debris-clearance laser to burn through the tether that’s holding the module to which the shuttle is docked."

"What good would that do? The whole module is swarming with rebels."

"There are five known rebels — who we’ve managed to contain by reconfiguring some walls — but there are also three other people. All three are declared Preservationists, but they might still be your allies. If I throw the module clear of the Rindler, and everyone else is lost, they might get the shuttle free. And if the Rindler survives, at least they’ll have a chance of getting back to us."

Tchicaya said, "Who are the three?"

"Alejandro, Wael, and Mariama," Branco replied. "I don’t know any of them well. But you’re the one who’d be left here with them, so you’d better decide whether that would be to your advantage or not."

The retreating ship was vanishing into the borderlight. Tchicaya didn’t want the power to gamble with anyone’s fate, but the rebels had left the builders with no choice but to juggle odious alternatives, and now Branco had dragged him into the same quagmire.

If the rebels were trying to destroy the Rindler, it was because they believed they had nothing more to do here, which meant that the Right Hand was already primed to scribe Planck worms without further intervention. Sparing everyone in the module wouldn’t put the far side in any greater danger, so he should err on the side of saving those people, in the hope that they’d help him fight the Planck worms. If he was left here alone, drifting off into the distance, he might be able to control the Left Hand remotely for a while, but without the shuttle he’d eventually lose radio contact.

The rebels could still be mistaken, though. The first attempt to create the Planck worms could fail. If anyone aligned with the rebels remained, they could work to rectify those early mistakes; they’d have decades to achieve their goal, virtually guaranteeing that the far side would be obliterated. So maybe it would be safer to be left alone, to do whatever he could in the time he had.

It all came down to whether or not one or more of those three people had been swayed by the rebels, as Birago had been swayed. Birago, who’d always seemed passionate but reasonable, and nowhere near as fanatical as Tarek.

Alejandro, Wael, and Mariama.

Branco said, "We’ve worked out the strategy the rebels are using. It’s not the best, but it is effective. If they’re not stopped, they’ll definitely spill the fuel."

Tchicaya said, "Cut it loose."