“There are four base forces in nature: gravity, electromagnetic, strong, and weak.”
“Correct.”
Ahana gave a slight smile. She viewed Nagoya as a father, and when he got in this mode, she felt a strong affection for him. It was how they had worked out many problems in the past, going to the elementary level and examining things from scratch.
“And the force particles for each?” Nagoya asked.
‘For electromagnetic it is the photon. Gravity…well, it’s postulated that there is a particle called the graviton but again, only because of effect, not that we’ve ever seen one. For strong, the particle is the gluon. And for weak, you have weak gauge bosons.”
“I think the Shadow can manipulate the strong and weak forces,” Nagoya said. “We can do so, but only crudely. A nuclear weapon explodes when we split atoms, and the strong forces are released. When uranium decays in a reactor, we are using weak forces. But what if you could manipulate strong and weak forces like we use electricity?”
“The power would be tremendous.” Ahana was beginning to get excited, too. Also, consider gravity. Very powerful, but we cannot manipulate it at all.”
“Correct,” Nagoya said. He held his hand up and let it drop to his side. “We fight it constantly. Think of the energy required to put a rocket into space. Something that weighs relatively little requires a tremendous expense of energy. Turn it around. Imagine the energy that is going the other way, all the time. But I do not think the Shadow can manipulate gravity. If so, there would be an inexhaustible supply anywhere in the universe. No.” he shook his head. “It is the strong and weak forces at the smallest level that the Shadow controls.
“Imagine then,” Nagoya’ voice was excited, “if one could manipulate those forces at the smallest levels, then apply the right focus to bring it to the visible universe! I think that is what the gates are. Now, the issue is, how do we use that?’
Ahana’s mind was racing. “The Shadow comes to our side and extends its environment to a certain extent into our world to tap power here. Would it not make sense that we could do the same to it? Go into their world and tap their power?”
“With what?” Nagoya asked.
Ahana pointed down at the superkamiokande that was below. “We’ve only used this to receive, never to transmit. The first probe proved that we can make contact with the other side through the portals. The Russian probe proved that the gates are connected on the other side. What if we develop a portable superkamiokande and take it to a gate and transmit using the data we’ve just picked up?”
Nagoya considered that. “That might work, but I doubt if we could focus enough power to open the gate.”
“We do what the Shadow does,” Ahana said.
“What do you mean?”
“We take power from the Shadow’s side like it’s taking power from our side and bring it to bear at the portal.”
“How?”
“We run an extension cord and plug in,” Ahana said.
Pytor’s eyes hurt to open. It was as if his eyelids were crusted shut. With great effort, he opened them and blinked, trying to clear his vision. His entire body throbbed with pain.
The first thing he saw was a smooth, white face with no mouth or nose, just two red eyes staring at him. He looked down. The body of the creature in front of him was also encased in white, something that looked like plastic, but he could tell it wasn’t. A clock covered its shoulders. He was startled to note the thing as floating a few inches off the ground.
His arms were locked to his sides, and straps ran over his chest and legs, holding him in place on a vertical table. He struggled to move, but there was no give to the straps. The air was strange, even thicker than where he had just been. Beyond the creature was a cavern hewn out of black stone.
Looking to his right. Pytor saw a row of tables similar to the one he was strapped to. He cried out as he saw the condition of the poor souls on them. Many had been flayed, their skin gone, replaced by some sort of clear wrapping that glistened obscenely, revealing the muscles and internal organs beneath. Various leads went into the bodies, particularly the heads. Most of those he could see had had the top of the skulls neatly sliced off, and needles went into the exposed brains. The tops of the needles were small, glowing bulbs of various colors, the entire spectrum of the rainbow.
Piles of clothes lay near some of the bodies, and he could tell that some were the uniforms of American sailors. It was impossible, given the condition of the bodies, to tell nationalities. And they were alive. That was the worst part, as he watched the slow rise and fall of the chests of those nearest him.
He shifted his gaze back to the creature in front of him as it finally moved. Its left arm ending in a shining blade. The tip came forward to Pytor’s sternum. He looked own and could see ugly red splotches on his skin, blisters breaking though as the radiation ran its course.
Another creature appeared, floating smoothly, a group of needles in one claw, a small red tube with a glowing tip in the other. The tube was raised, and despite his high level of pain, Pytor screamed as a beam cut into the top of his head, neatly cutting through flesh and bone, stopping a millimeter from his brain. With dazed eyes, he saw the top of this skull tossed to the ground in front of him. He distantly felt pokes as the second creature inserted needles into his brain.
He cursed at the creature in Russian as the first one slid the blade into his chest, smoothly parting the skin. The radiation was taking too long, he realized. And the cancer… The creature stopped the blade as if reading his mind. It turned and faced the other. They stayed like that for several moments as if exchanging information, then the second disappeared behind him. It reappeared a moment later with a pair of inverted forceps.
Pytor screamed as the tips went in between his ribs and split them open, shattering bone, exposing one of his diseased lungs. They seemed to find the cancer most interesting as both hovered there, probing and poking. Blood was flowing out of his chest, he could feel it seeping down over his legs, but one of the tubes that they had put in him was replacing it as quickly as it left.
Then they both disappeared. One — which one he had no idea — reappeared, with a tube. It jabbed it into his chest, right into his heart. Pytor finally passed out.
How long he was unconscious he didn’t know, but when he awoke, one of the creatures was still in front of him. Pytor forced himself to look down. The creature with the blade was cutting, slicing his lung out of this chest. The other lung was already gone. Through his pain, Pytor was amazed. How was he alive? Or was this hell, he suddenly thought, and these were demons tormenting him?
And why was he able to tolerate the pain? It was bad but not what he would have imagined for the damage that had been done to his body. The tube that went into his chest pulsed, and he had to assume that it was supplying his blood with oxygen, although how, he had no idea.
The second creature floated into view, something lumpy and grayish red in its claws. A lung. Pytor had to look away as he felt them working on his chest. He passed out once more.
When he woke once more, the creature was simply there in front of him, not moving, unblinking red eyes staring at him. Pytor looked down. The same transparent wrap was over his chest, covering the muscle and bones. The tube was still stuck in his chest, and he realized he wasn’t breathing: although not painful, this was the most disconcerting experience so far.