His blaster roared, and a spark flew from the barrel of the Copperhead. There was a sharp clang, followed by a cry of pain and astonishment. The Copperhead, torn from Pollard’s grasp, clattered end over end across the stone floor.
“You son of a bitch!” Pollard yelled, his voice thick with hatred, wild with fury. “You’re dead, Kane! Dead !”
“Now we’re not quite as outgunned,” Kane murmured, straightening up.
Pollard cursed in a frenzy, and they heard his companion’s murmured rejoinders for him to calm down. Kane chuckled, but Grant didn’t find it very funny.
“That did it,” he said dolefully. “You pissed him off so bad, they’ll make a suicide charge. Since you’re the only one in armor, you might last thirty seconds longer than the rest of us.”
Brigid called out, “Hey! I’ve got something!”
They left the junction and went to the unit. The first thing Kane saw was the light from the readout display flashing “Active.” He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. “Where is it?”
“A place coded as Redoubt Bravo, somewhere in Montana. It was the fourth one listed in the records, and the fourth one I tried. We’ve got a transit line now.”
Grant, Kane and Domi eyed the armaglass chamber hesitantly. Now that the possibility of matter transmission was no longer an abstract concept, Kane found his enthusiasm ebbing. He covered his uncertainty by consulting his wrist chron.
“Well?” asked Brigid impatiently.
“How does this work exactly?” Grant asked.
“I don’t know,” she said irritably. “I don’t know if it works at all. According to the Wyeth Codex , the principle is based on hyperdimensional physics, phasing transport subjects from the relativistic here, through a quantum path, to arrive at a relativistic there .”
“That’s not what I meant,” replied Grant gruffly.
“Oh. Well, when you shut the door, the jump mechanism is automatically triggered, and pfft ! you’re on your way. To someplace.”
Domi fingered her ribs. “Will it hurt?”
“The Wyeth Codex indicated there were occasional side effects, what she referred to as ‘jump sickness.’ Nothing too unpleasant.”
“Assuming we get in there,” Kane said, “what’s to keep Pollard from just opening the door and blasting us while we’re penned up?”
Brigid rapped the keypad with a crooked finger. “Simple. Before we shut the door, I’ll enter a security-lock code, 108J. They can’t get in until after we’ve transported unless they know the unlocking code.”
Grant shifted his weight from foot to foot. “But can we get out?”
“Yes, we can get out,” snapped Brigid in exasperation. “You wanted me to find an active-destination unit. I did. Now, are we going to stand around and discuss it some more or are we going to get jumping?”
Kane opened his mouth to voice an objection to her tone, then shut it again as swift, rattling roars came from the passageway. The sudden crash of noise was stunning. Bullets howled down the corridor, and fragments of splintered rock whined into the junction. Ricochets twanged like plucked guitar strings. Sparks blazed from the metal girders. Behind it all was the steady hammering of three blasters on full-auto. Howling like blood-mad berserkers, Pollard and his gunner charged down the corridor, weapons blazing.
Kane, Grant and Domi lunged into the chamber. Slugs splattered against the armaglass walls, flattening into gray blobs. Brigid frantically punched in the lock code, then she dived inside, trying to pull the heavy door shut by its inner handle. Grant gave her a hand. The door closed with a frighteningly final chock .
Immediately the hexagonal disks in the floor and ceiling exuded a glow, and a low, almost subsonic hum began, quickly rising in pitch to a whine. The noise changed, sounding like the distant howling of a cyclone.
Outside the room, they heard Pollard shouting in angry confusion, and the guns continued to blast. The bullets bounced off the armaglass.
The glow brightened. A mist, shot through with tiny flashing sparks, formed below the ceiling disks and rose from the floor. The mist thickened to a fog and swirled down and up to engulf them. Brigid moved toward Kane, and he put an arm around her. She tried a jittery, reassuring smile on him. Across the chamber, Grant had enfolded Domi in his arms. His face was an expressionless ebony mask.
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