The box was about a half a meter long, a quarter meter deep and wide, and colored a rather pleasant shade of violet. It appeared to be made from plastic or carbon fiber. On the top were a series of symbols and some readouts.
“I will brief you carefully upon the use of this device,” the artass said. “Then I will carry it to the far side of our mutual gate. After that what you do with it will be up to you.”
“Yes, sir,” Bill said, eying the box warily.
“This is an ardune,” the artass said. “The ardune requires a period of time to become useable.” He pressed a key and a bar on the top of it outlined in blue and began slowly flashing. “It will require half a cycle, some fifteen of your hours, for it to become fully useable.”
“Fifteen hours,” Bill said, looking at his watch. “Got it.”
“Each ardune uses a different initiator key,” the artass said, pointing to the symbols. Bill noted that there were fifteen, three rows of five. “In this case, you press these five,” the artass continued, not actually touching the keys. “When you do, this indicator begins to blink,” he said, pointing to a readout that was, at the moment, quite dead. “You press this key and it increments up in time. It is in our sadeen which is about two thirds of your seconds.”
“Okay,” Bill said.
“It only increments to thirty sadeen,” the artass continued. “Twenty of your seconds.”
“Okay,” Bill said, his stomach clenching.
“You then have to input the code again. You have thirty sadeen to reinput the code, after which the counter resets and you have to start all over again. When you complete the second input, the countdown starts.”
“Okay,” Bill said, breathing out. “Can I input all but the last key as long as I don’t go over the thirty sadeen?”
“Yes.”
“Can I turn it off?” Bill asked. “I mean, after the countdown?”
“Key the sequence again,” the artass said. “If you have time.”
“Key the sequence again,” Bill nodded, realizing why the guards and the two other Adar, probably nearly as high rank as the artass, were eying it they way they did. This was a nuclear suicide device. “Just like a security alarm. Got it.”
“A few warnings about the ardune,” the adass said. “Obviously, it must be used immediately. If you get it to the other side of the gate, and it stays there, all is well. The effect around the gate area, however, may be hazardous.”
I bet, Bill thought.
“Last warning about the ardune,” the artass said. “It is heavily armored. That is because, as you surmise, the material it contains is explosive. If the armor is penetrated or the containment fails, it will predetonate. The development of material is nonlinear, however. It will be at least one of your hours before it is significantly hazardous. However, by the time it reaches full power, if the case is cracked, say by a Titcher plasma weapon, the results will be… unpleasant.”
“What’s the output?” Bill asked.
“You would define it as six hundred megatons,” the artass answered. “If it does not destroy the gates, it will assuredly destroy your world, probably cracking it open and fragmenting it into space. In which case, our world will be secure.”
“Unpleasant.” Understatement of the… of all time!
“How do I know it won’t blow up the first time I input the code?” Bill asked, sweating.
“You don’t.”
When they reached the Terran side of the gate, the artass handed Bill the bomb and then went back to his side without a backward glance. Tchar looked at Bill, unreadably, for a moment, and then stepped back through as well.
Bill looked at the admiral and shrugged.
“You going back over?” Bill asked. “I understand they’ve set up a greenhouse over there. If this thing goes off, on the wrong side, you’ll make it.”
“What’s the point?” Avery replied. “All my children and grandchildren are over here. Nope, I think I’m going to pack up my tent and see if I can still get a flight back to the States. If we’re going to all die, I’d rather die on my own soil.”
“Well, I’ve got a plane to catch,” Bill said, looking at the bar on the ardune. It was still barely showing any increase.
“That you do,” the admiral said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
The F-15 had state-of-the-art communications and it was in the middle of the Atlantic. It was an even better place to hold a secure conversation than most secure rooms.
“I have obtained a device from the Adar,” Bill told what he’d come to think of as the Troika. “It will destabilize, probably destroy, the gates and the boson fractal. All I have to do is get it to the other side.”
“That’s going to be hard,” the secretary of defense said. “Actually, that’s a bit of an understatement. That’s going to be damned near impossible.”
“We’re holding the Mreee, right?” Bill asked. “Can you pull forces off elsewhere and throw them at that gate? I just have to get this thing over for a few seconds and then the Titcher threat goes away, permanently. Or, at least as permanently as we’re going to get. We’re losing everywhere else, right? Let the Titcher have the territory, we can get it back. We just need to close the gates.”
“He has a point,” the national security advisor said. “You’re sure this will close the gates?”
“Yes,” Bill replied, definitely. But a faint quaver in his voice must have given him away.
“What are the secondary effects?” the national security advisor asked, guardedly.
“Oh, if I get it to the other side, minimal on this side,” Bill answered. “I’m not even sure there will be a neutron pulse, this time. Don’t see why there would be. The gates should just disappear as if they never existed.”
“And if you don’t get it to the other side?” the President asked. “And it goes off on this side?”
“That gates will still get shut down,” Bill replied. “As long as I can get it close to one of them.”
“And the secondary effects?” the national security advisor asked.
“Oh, pretty bad,” Bill said, his head light. “Just about as bad as can be imagined. Some of the guys in nuke boats might be okay, if they’re, say, well out in the middle of the Pacific and really deep. There’s women on some of them now, right? So the human race won’t be entirely eliminated. If the world doesn’t crack and turn into a new asteroid belt,” he added, honestly, in a voice out of nightmare.
There was a very long pause that was ended by the secretary of defense clearing his throat.
“Dr. Weaver, what sort of magnitude are we discussing here?”
“Six hundred megatons,” Bill said, looking at the device in his lap.
There was another long pause.
“Dr. Weaver,” the national security advisor said, in a voice that was high and strange, “I’m reminded of an expression from the Vietnam War. Something about destroying a world to save it.”
“We’re doomed anyway, ma’am,” Bill replied, his voice firm now. “The Adar have had this capability for some time, how long I don’t know, but long enough to use it on their own gate. They haven’t. The question is: why?”
“Why?” the President asked in a firm tone.
“Because they’re not desperate, Mr. President,” Bill answered. “I guess the question is, how desperate are we?”
There was another pause.
“Mr. Secretary?” the President said.