‘If we Russians have faults, Michael, they are these: we tend to be too well regimented in our thinking, and we are not accustomed to failure. So that when things go disastrously wrong we stand stunned, uncomprehending, like small children waiting for Mama to tell us what to do next. It was like that for Khrushchev when Kennedy faced him down, and again for the – shall we say – “responsible authorities” over that stupid affair of the Korean airliner. If there are any more disasters in the offing, it will doubtless be the same all over again – just as it was here at Perchorsk.
‘Eventually the military were alerted, and they in turn told Moscow. But can you imagine the reaction? “What? Something has got loose from Perchorsk in the Urals? What sort of something? What are you talking about?” But at last Migs were sent up from Kirovsk, and the rest you already know. Indeed, you know more than I do about that part of it! But at least I know why the Russian fighters failed while the USAF planes succeeded. We’ve learned that much from the other . . . encounters. It’s the reason for the flame-throwers.
That’s right: the American aircraft were equipped with experimental Firedevil air-to-air missiles which not only explode on impact but hurl searing flames all about. Less bulky than napalm but ten per cent more effective. That is what stopped that thing over the Hudson Bay – fire! Fire and light – sunlight! Until the American fighters contacted it, the thing had flown through or under fairly dense cloud cover, and the sunlight wasn’t strong yet. But as the sun rose so the creature descended, seeking protection for itself. They are cold things, Michael, and they are things of darkness.
‘You’ve described what you saw on that AWACS film: clouds of vile gasses boiling off the creature’s surface in the bright sunlight, and the way its vast, flattened, airfoil body shrank from the sun. Ah, yes! It wasn’t so much that the Migs failed, but that other, natural forces assisted the Americans in their success. The thing was half-beaten before it met the Americans, and their Firedevils finished it off.
‘Well, and that was the end of Encounter One . . .
‘Now a sort of anticlimax: Encounter Two was a wolf!
‘It came through in just the same way as the first thing, but by comparison it was so small – and so normal – that it almost went unnoticed. But not quite. A soldier spotted it first, put a bullet in it the moment it came limping through the Gate. That stopped it, but not fatally. It was examined, but oh so cautiously, and found to be … a wolf! It was old, mangy, almost blind and close to starving. They saved its life, caged it, fed and cared for it and subjected it to every test in the book. Because they weren’t quite sure they could trust it, do you see? But … it was a wolf. In every respect a brother of the creatures which even today hunt in the great forests of these parts. By the time it died nine months ago, of old age, the animal was quite tame.
‘And so they thought: perhaps the world on the other side isn’t so very different from this one after all. Or: perhaps this gateway we’ve opened leads to many other worlds. Viktor Luchov thinks that as a physical phenomenon – or as a phenomenon of physics – it lies somewhere between a black hole and a white hole. Black holes sit out in the deeps of space and gobble up worlds, and not even light can escape from their fantastic gravitational attraction; white holes are the theoretical melting pots that give birth to galaxies; both are gateways to and from other space-times. Likewise our sphere of white light – but not nearly so violent! Which is why Luchov calls it a “grey hole”, a gateway in both directions!’
At this point Khuv had held up a warning hand. ‘Don’t break the thread now, Michael, for we’re doing so well. You can ask your questions later.’ And when Jazz had relaxed again: