Chapter 17. The Lost Hope.

As the Circle's Edge spiraled in closer to the white hole, it had more near misses with proto-matter exiting the hole. Subjectively, the chunks would range anywhere from the size of a small building to the size of a small planet. They appeared as bright, glowing starlettes, a mix of condensing plasma and ionized gasses. They exhibited "inconsistent" properties in terms of velocity, mass, position, and sometimes size.

Theories about white holes offered various explanations. Of course, most of the sources were considered crackpots by the so-called experts to even speculate on such an area. But the gist was that such large quantities of newly created matter, having so recently emerged from such a strange and hostile environment, in terms of temperature, pressure, and even curvature of the local space-time substructure, would have "exotic" quantum properties manifesting themselves in the observable world, at least for some period of time. Or, as one of the most renowned quantum-gravimetric-astrophysicists, who proposed the plan that they evacuate the Circle's Edge immediately, and perhaps even sooner than as soon as possible, put it, "it's full of weird shit that breaks all the rules, and you want to be far, far away from it."

Several chunks of white hot dust tumbled by the Circle's Edge, tugging the ship with its gravitational pull when it was heavy, and releasing it when it was not. The blobs would twinkle and wink, sometimes because of varying levels of radiant light they released, and sometimes because their position shifted around by hundreds of kilometers or more.

One bit appeared to slow and get smaller as it approached the ship. It winkled and sparkled, appearing in front of, behind, and to the side of the ship all within the course of a few seconds, before settling on approaching the ship from the side on a parallel, non-collision course. As it got closer, its radiance increased. Its density shifted until the atoms at its core underwent nuclear fusion, releasing a small burst of sunlight while consuming its relatively small mass. For a few seconds, the ship was bathed in what appeared to be pure white light that would also be considered exotic for its properties. And then as quickly as it had ignited, it went out, still a white hot mass of stardust, but smaller and somewhat warmer than before.

****

For reasons beyond his understanding, Lon Kalopello was still alive.

He made it to an intraship transport, a glorified elevator. He got in, pawed at the control a little and got it heading in the right direction. He leaned against the wall and thought about collapsing, but decided he would not do that just quite yet. He had enough clarity for the moment that he could think about a few things. First, his knife wound hurt, but not as much as he expected. He held his left had over the wound on his right side, yet he was not applying pressure and it did not seem to be bleeding.

Second, he wasn't sure who had stabbed him. It happened so fast and he had blacked out quickly after that. Third, the hallways had been empty. He had no idea where people were, but they weren't anywhere near him. Fourth, there had been another body next to his. One of his Children--he had recognized the robe--but he had no idea who, as the victim was lying face down. And finally, while he knew where the escape pod was, it seemed unlikely that he could operate it and even unlikelier than that it would be in any functional shape. Nevertheless, he had to go there. The voice, his voice, insisted.

He had lost a lot of blood and knew he was in shock. He wasn't sure if he had stopped bleeding or had some last minute desperate boost of red blood cells stored somewhere. All he knew was that he had to keep moving and he had to get to the escape pod. While waiting to arrive at Section B, Deck 40, he noticed he was no longer wearing his robes. He might have laughed, if he could. It was nothing he would be needing anymore.

Through the cacophony of half-heard sounds in his head, he half-heard Brother X'til saying something to someone. He couldn't focus on that or anything. His vision would only clear every half-minute or so giving him a glimpse of where he was and whether he was still standing. After what had felt like hours but were more likely minutes, the door opened and he exited, in his painful, awkward, half-collapsing walk.

Three long corridors later, he came to a closed door in the hallway, with a sign next to it that read: Science Lab 40-3. He put his hand on the sensor. Nothing happened.

He slumped forward a bit and rested his forehead on the back of his hand, while his palm was still on the sensor. From that position, he felt a shudder go through the walls of the ship and could almost hear a low rumble from the walls. He did not care.

The lights dimmed for a moment, then came back on. A chirping sound on the door panel drew his attention from miles away. The system was resetting itself after a power-loss event. He continued to lean on his hand, which was activating the "door open" mechanism. As the system went through a quick diagnostic, it chirped twice, indicating a power-reset manual override had been engaged. A moment later, the door opened.

He might have stayed there, leaning against the panel for the rest of his life, but some of his weight was against the door, and as it slid open, he started his stagger-tumble-stumble-walk again.

The lab was in the same state of disrepair as it had been the previous night. He staggered to the far end of the room and walked into the pod, tearing down the sign "The Lost Hope" as he entered.

He walked to the front control seat and activated the main systems and hit the auto-launch command. He hoped there were some supplies, perhaps some medical kits.

The pod went through it's power-up sequence. The pod door shut and sealed itself. His ears popped slightly, but he didn't notice it. Several lights on a side panel turned green, indicating the doors were closed and sealed, the capsule was holding its own atmospheric pressure, and other systems were coming on line. On-board systems informed him that the launch would be in ten seconds. He sat down in the pilot's seat, which had some g-reduction capabilities.

Before he could do anything, he felt the seat-back press hard into his back. A green light flashed over a display that indicated how Science Lab 40-3 was suffering from the dual problems of fire and ice. Jenkins must have pressurized the gap between the ship and the pod with hydrogen and oxygen, which provided an impressive one-fireball salute as a sort of sendoff, and torching the lab as a side effect. The thin translucent sheeting, which had protected the science lab from the large hole in the ship where the pod had been docked ship, melted and burned in the fireball, leaving a large hole for the lab's atmosphere to escape. The resulting pressure drop left a thin layer of frost on all surfaces from the ice fog that instantly formed. The fires that had been burning were immediately extinguished as the oxygen supply was removed.

Lon leaned his head back on the seat and looked at the ceiling of the pod. There was little left for him to do now but die.

"Engage the engines," the voice said. It was his own, yet it did not seem to be of his own volition.

He was too weak and tired and was getting a bit annoyed too. "What's the point?" he said out loud. His voice sounded weak, hoarse and croaky. "There's no conduit in this pod. It doesn't spontaneously arc. Without something to set off the reaction, nothing will happen."

"Set them and enter the warp vector coordinates." The other voice seemed to be more of a whisper.

"This is stupid. I don't want to argue with you...with me...with anyone. I don't know hyper-spacial astro-geometry or any of the N-dimensional mathematics. You want the engines on? Fine. Here!" He flipped two controls to the on position and set two adjustments to set a fairly high displacement value—the equivalent of stepping on the gas. Nothing happened, though all the controls indicated the systems were online and active. If the pod had not been deliberately sabotaged, it would be zipping along at a respectable pace.

"Do you want to die? Now?" he asked himself.

"Well...I..."

"If you had other options. On the side panel to your right is the environmental controls. Will very little effort, you could override the system and blow out the hatch. The explosive decompression would kill you quickly and painlessly. Much quicker and less painful than having a knife slice your kidney, small intestine, and renal vein. Very easy to do. Is that what you want?"

"No," he said quietly to himself.

"Then what would you like?" he asked himself.

"To get away from all this. To go. Away."

"Where?"

"A simple place. Where I can enjoy the days. Maybe do something... I don't know, something different. Less... wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Sometimes, if you keep saying the same thing long enough, you start to believe it. You feed off other people's beliefs, which is what you're growing in the first place." He half-laughed silently, then winced with pain and put his hand over the bloody area by his shirt. He added, "Well...that never happened for me."

After some silence, he continued, as if to taunt the other, as if it wasn't just himself speaking. "Let's be realistic. That one little blast, that hydrogen explosion that I assume was put there to give an extra boost to this pod, that's it. I've shot my wad and there's nothing left in this ship. Maybe I should just blow the hatch. How much longer can I stay here? With the hole here and its gravity, I'm guessing it won't be long."

"About 45 seconds," he replied to himself.

"Fine. I can wait that long. And here," he reached to the nav panel and typed in a random sequence without looking at it. "I've set the coordinates. I've lost a lot of blood and can't believe I got as far as I did. I might not have 45 seconds left."

"See if you can manage 30 seconds," came his whispered reply.

****

Jenkins watched as the projector powered up. He was also monitoring the ship's life support system. For a small, handheld device, the projector was drawing a phenomenal amount of power, but it remained within the limits of what excess power was available. He wasn't sure what was supposed to happen when it reached the critical power level. He would play it by ear.

He could also feel that he was more distracted and it was getting worse. He thought how it had been foolish to throw out that much stardust, but the need wasn't strong. At least not yet. He was still satisfied with his decision. He didn't know how long he could last.

Suddenly, the device seemed to glow for a moment. There was a sensation of heat, intense heat and then it was gone. Nothing was burned, nothing was damaged. Perhaps it was only an illusion. But then he felt it...the field. It was projected a hundred meters or so beyond the ship's edge. At points the stars winked out momentarily, as they were obscured by the bands of dark energy. The field was there, but it wasn't coherent. He would need to focus it. He'd have to figure out how it worked, how to focus it, and then how to use it. If his mind had been clearer, he might have been terrified but he was merely determined.

He made small adjustments to the three controls on the handle of the device. The field waxed and waned. He was afraid of what would happen if the field had an uncontrolled collapse, but in reality it wouldn't matter, it would be very quick. He wasn't sure how long he had been playing with the controls but suddenly the field shifted into focus and he could sense somehow that there was a long tube, a tendril that had formed from the dark energy.

At that point, one of the proto-matter masses grew bright. The room was filled with light. Jenkins closed his eyes, yet it made no difference. Yet it was not unpleasant. It was a pure white light and it felt...clean. He felt himself thinking about how to control the device and realized what he would need do would take infinite subtlety. The course adjustments on the handle would not provide what he would need. What he needed would take something far more precise and intricate. He wanted to get this to work. He needed to get this to work.

The light faded and he opened his eyes. He could barely see the inside of the room from the afterimage of the bright light—he could not discern anything outside. Seeing a black tendril on a mostly black background was a near impossibility, when there was a big, blue afterimage covering most of his visual field. But this did not concern him. His mind was clear and he knew what he must do.

He placed his hands on the handle and let his fingers curl until they were touching the control contacts where his tools had been connected. He felt a tingling of electrical voltage, but it was merely unpleasant, not painful or harmful.

He paused for a moment and realized he had no desire for the drug. That need had been purged from his being. He could now focus on what his one remaining job was: control the tendril. He tried to move it and his arms felt a painful tingling, but he ignored it. The tendril began to move, first in fits and spurts, but then more smoothly, and where he wanted it to go. He realized he would need to see it in order to guide it. Even without the afterimage, which was slowly fading, it was only a dark shadow on a sparse star field. No matter how he squinted, he could not see it properly.

After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on the tendril and then something in his consciousness shifted. He was not seeing it, but somehow he had a proprioceptive sense of its position. He knew where it was, just as he knew the position of his arms and legs.

He reached out and extended the tendril. As it approached the white hole, he could feel a growing repulsion, similar to when two magnets of the same polarity approach each other. He could force the tendril closer, but it would simply slide around this opposition field. He needed to get some sort of "grip" on the star to be able to push with the coil of coherent dark energy.

There would be no handles. But if he could "push" against several places at once, he could avoid slipping. He split the tendril with a thought that felt as natural as it was unnatural to do to an arm or leg. And then he split the tendrils again. Smaller tendrils branched out from each tendril to the other tendrils to anchor them in place. The four tendrils spread out and approached the hole from different angles. This time they found purchase.

Then he realized if he wanted to move the ship, he would need to find handholds, or tendril-holds, on the ship. He traced back to the other end of the tendrils and had them approach the ship. Only as he had to bring them so much closer together that he began to understand the scale of the dark field. At one end, the four tendrils touched key anchor points of the ship, 10^1 kilometers, and at the other 106-107 kilometers. Yet his mind could grasp this huge scale as easily as he could reach out and catch a ball thrown to him without consciously doing differential calculus.

The ship shuddered. This time is was the kinesthetic sense in the seat of his pants (as well as the rest of his body) that felt the movement. He gently increased the pressure and could feel the ship slowly shifting. He started to feel another perception, similar to a positional one, but it included the curvature of space. He could tell where the ship was with respect to the local gravity well. And it had stopped falling.

He could tell (see? feel? smell? any word is equally appropriate or inappropriate) where the so-called "lip" of the gravity well was and knew he had to push the ship past that point. The ship shuddered and groaned but he could tell it was moving away from the white hole.

He wasn't sure if this effort was taxing his mind or body more, but he knew he could not continue this for long. He realized that there would be no way anyone could manipulate the dark energy field using a handful of controls to do what he was doing. Even a computer would not be able to do this. It was also possible that he was uniquely qualified for this task, given the current state of body and mind. The ship reached the target distance. It was no longer orbiting the white hole, it was simply remaining a fixed distance and position from the hole. He braced himself, though he didn't know why and felt a tiny pressure against him, the ship, pushing him towards the hole. He pressed back, ever so slightly and felt his, the ship's, mass decrease ever so slightly.

He was losing himself in this and did not want to. His hands, his real hands, were pale from gripping the gun so hard. His body, his real body, had been standing for minutes tense in an awkward position. He would need to disengage. He locked the joints on his arms, his tendrils, in place, so they would keep the ship where it was and he slowly released his senses, his consciousness, and eventually, his fingers that gripped the controls.

****

"A fellow X'tonu'u brother I thought had died in the riots. He's done more than his share to undermine good will between us and the Y'valatic. Like me, he doesn't take sides. But while I try to love both the X and the Y, he hates all."

Before the leader could say another word, Kless drew his pulse gun. As he deactivated the safety mechanism, he reset it to maximum power, wide dispersion—no time for subtlety. He rotated 90 degrees and fired over his shoulder at the man behind him. He heard a noisy splatter of boiling blood and scattered limbs. He didn't have time to look at the results. He fired twice into the group of four by the door and heard bodies drop. He turned and fired once into the group by the tray on the floor on the far side of the room to him and heard screams. Some of them might live, at least for a while. None would be attacking him.

He had ended the immediate danger. Now it was time to make his intentions clear. He set the weapon focus to a much smaller aperture while leaving the power level as it was set. He turned to the leader and smiled savagely.

"Hello, 'brother,'" he said, doing an abbreviated version of the traditional X'tonu'u greeting. And then, "Goodbye, brother."

He fired one shot into the middle of the leader's torso. The impact of the blast made his head whip backwards then forwards as his body took two steps back and fell against the window. There was a small black circle, about the side of two fists in the center of his chest. His robes at the edges of the hole were smoldering, and a sizzling sound from the flesh at the edges of the black zone.

After a moment, Kless added, "I must say this has been the MOST pleasant conversation I've had all day."

The lifeless body slowly began to slide down towards the floor.

"Do shut up!" Kless said to the PA speakers as he shot at both of them, destroying them. The background drone of X'til ceased and silence fell on the room. Kless turned to face the remaining living people in the room.

That was when he began to hear the sound.

****

The escape pod lurched in odd directions. First Lon was thrown forward, then to the left, then up out of his seat, slammed down again and then thrown back into the seat.

Before he could say anything, he looked out the forward window and saw a huge glowing chunk the size of a moderate asteroid, less than 10 kilometers away from him.

It disappeared and he fell forward. From that position he could see the black space to his right was no longer black but another glowing fragment of proto-matter was there, close. The ship lurched and he slid to the left. As he stared at it, suddenly he was looking at a black field of space again.

"If it's some kind of gravity, why wouldn't I feel the pull at the same time as the ship?" his voice croaked out loud. He held both hands out in front of him and let them go. The left arm fell down to the panel, the right one "fell" to the left. "What in the hells...?" he said.

There were several more shifting and jarring sensations, coming more rapidly, but less and less intense.

"What the fu--" he began, but before he could finish, he was interrupted by his own whispering voice.

"Just about there. There'll be a few more micro-adjustments, but things should stabilize. It's a combination of your position and the coordinates you entered. Where you are, where you think you want to go, and where you're going."

"And where am I going?" he asked.

"Now isn't the time for answers. Not yet." There was silence for five seconds. Then he said, "Now."

****

A red light winked nervously on the console in front of him. X'til tapped a few controls, then said, "By the way, just a little bit of news to pass along. Anyone looking to get a last minute snack...something I wouldn't recommend, but in no way forbid...I mean, why waste the time? Anyway...best to avoid the main galley on the starboard section of Deck 30. Looks like there's been an explosive decompression there, and..." he paused a moment as he read a status summary, "and...considerable structural damage all around the hull in that area. So if you're hungry for something other than knowledge and spiritual satisfaction, you'll need to go to one of the other mess halls or a dispenser. I'm broadcasting on all the PAs throughout the ship, so you're free to move about as you see fit. I'm just saying you might want to stay within earshot of the most holy man in the entire Church. Now where was I?"

"Those on board this ship have the singular privilege of being in the presence of the highest authority of the Church of the Expanding Light. I speak of the leader of the entire organization: The Black Hole, the endpoint of everything, whose mass dwarfs that of neutron stars. Whose gravitational field is strong enough that light, the fastest natural phenomenon in the universe cannot escape its mighty grasp. And the Black Hole we revere has wisdom beyond all others. Humbly, I must admit that I speak of myself."

He paced the bridge while he spoke.

"After due consideration and consultation with the appropriate authorities, I came to understand that we are in a zone that isolates us at precisely a time when unity rather than isolation is needed."

He stopped as he noticed another red light winking.

"Deck 40, too. And by that I mean also Deck 40. In terms of explosive decompression. So that's decks 30 and 40, both on the starboard side. Let's just say avoid everything between 30 and 40, inclusive, and you'll be fine."

He continued pacing.

As he spoke, his voice rose to a shout, trembling with excitement. "Anyway, as I was saying, being the highest member of the church, I have unilaterally declared that I am now the Black Hole. The single most powerful person in the UNIVERSE!"