Shee nudged to it, and put her hand on the surface. And was horrified.
Question? Idyll asked in her mind.
Two things. This was a guided missile, but once it left the wormhole and oriented on its target, the controls fused, making it dead. It can't be diverted or halted; it is an inert missile. There is nothing for me to change. So it will strike Earth?
Yes, unless knocked aside by an external force. A ship could fire a missile at it. A small deviance would cause it to miss Earth.
Idyll shook her head. There is no ship in range to do that before it strikes Earth. We have to stop it ourselves.
We can't. It is too massive for us to affect.
Can we detonate it before it strikes?
Negation. There are no explosives in it.
What is the other thing?
Shee disliked saying what she had to say. The core is not ordinary matter. It is contra-terrene. CT. Supported by a strong magnetic net so there is no contact with the shell.
Idyll hesitated. I have no experience with this. What does it mean?
When the drone strikes the planet, the terrene shell will vaporize and expose the core.
When ordinary matter touches contra-terrene matter, the result is mutual annihilation. Total conversion to energy.
That would blow Earth apart!
Affirmation.
We must report.
They conjured themselves back to Earth.
"The news is bad," Monochrome said.
Shee quickly caught them up on the situation.
"No explosives—but the whole thing is the worst kind of explosive," Gale said.
"There is no more powerful detonation," Monochrome agreed.
"So what do we do about it?" Idyll asked.
"Could Earth fire a missile to intercept it?" Shee asked.
"We lack that type of technology here," Monochrome said. "We try to keep Earth peaceful."
"There has to be something!" Gale exclaimed.
"We knew there's something," Idyll said. "Because the far future path shows we do manage to stop it."
Shee concentrated. "There may be something. I think—there is a Glamor talent—that I alone can evoke."
"That will divert a dead missile?" Gale asked.
"No. Not exactly."
"Let us help you work it out," Idyll said.
The others took her hands again, and they all joined their minds together. Slowly the concept clarified.
"Oh, my," Monochrome breathed. "That is different," Gale said. "But if she can do it—" Idyll began.
"I think—with your support—I can," Shee said. "It is a function of matter, my clientele, but too new for me to be sure of yet."
"Just being a Glamor is still new for you," Monochrome said. "It will take years for you to discover your full potentials."
"We don't have years, or even months."
"Which is why we are here to assist."
"And this will require considerable assistance," Idyll said. "You are discovering how to make a wormhole."
"Not to find it, but to create it," Monochrome said. "That is different in ambition as well as detail."
"A wormhole in front of the drone," Gale said.
"So that it plunges in and is transported elsewhere," Idyll said. "Do we have any idea where?"
"No," Shee said. "What I see is that space is riddled with small fractures, cracks, and stress points. Maybe some are collapsed wormholes of bygone eras. If I can wedge into one, expanding it into full existence, of sufficient size—it won't even have to be permanent. Just there long enough."
"Like a tight woman," Monochrome said. "We need to open her up. Make her a better hole for that thrusting drone."
"I could have survived nicely enough without that analogy," Gale said, smiling.
"Fortunately none of us are tight," Idyll said. "At least, not tighter than we want to be."
"We none of us are loose enough for the drone," Monochrome said.
"Idyll could be, if she diffused," Gale said. "Diffusion is dangerous in space," Idyll said.
"We need air or water to support our particles. Otherwise we lose coherence."
"Space is tight," Shee said. "It is fraught with energy, and will require much force to disturb its network. I don't think I have enough."
"But the four of us together may have enough," Monochrome said. "Let's see whether we can do it," Monochrome said. "A test run here, then we can go to space for the real event." They linked hands again and focused. Slowly it came, a kind of picture forming in Shee's mind, clarifying as the others attuned to it. A wormhole, starting as a theoretical pinpoint, becoming real. There was a pop, breaking their concentration. "We did it!" Monochrome said. "That was the sound of air going through a tiny wormhole. We should have known better than to try it in atmosphere."
"Fortunately it collapsed when we lost focus," Gale said. "Just as well; we could have been sucked into it as the air moved to try to fill the vacuum."
"But we have established the capacity," Idyll said. "We can make a bigger one in space."
"In the drone's path," Monochrome said. "And hope it hits."
"Negation," Gale said.
"We can board the drone, and form the wormhole just before it, then let the drone plunge in. That will provide us a stable platform."
"If we don't get sucked in too," Idyll said, shuddering.
"It should collapse when we release our focus," Shee said. "As the pinhole did just now."
"Still, we won't want to be sitting on the drone as it goes through," Monochrome said.
"I think we'll need to float in space," Shee said, slowly fathoming it. "Each maintaining a quadrant. But there is a danger."
"There is a danger," Idyll echoed. "Are we up for it?"
"I am," Monochrome said. "Earth is my planet."
"I am," Gale said. "Earth is our mother planet."
"I am," Idyll said. "We have to balk the machines, and this is one place to do it."
They looked at Shee. "I am," she said. "I am a machine, but my alignment is with the living folk. I am expendable."
"We all are," Monochrome said. "So long as we get the job done."
They rehearsed the formation of wormholes, then got serious. They held their breaths, picked up Iolo with their ikons, and conjured to the drone.
I feel that CT core, Monochrome thought. Awesome.
Organize us, Shee thought to Idyll. I must focus on the wormhole.
Idyll organized them. Soon they stood around the sphere, their heads pointing out from its center. Then each pushed off gently, drifting into space. Iolo was with Idyll, protected by her ambiance. They were all plainly visible to each other in the light of near-solar space.
They linked minds and concentrated, as they had rehearsed. Shee located a potential wormhole and focused on it, feeling like a brute man wedging into a tight woman, thanks to Monochrome's analogy. The hole formed slowly, for this needed to be much more than a pinhole. She felt her Glamor strength dissipating, absorbed by the effort, and knew the others were being similarly drained. But they could not rest; this had to be done now. Each quadrant had to be expanded.
At last, after a few eternally long seconds, the wormhole was there. It was time to feed the drone into it.
Toward the drone, she thought. Now!
They pulled it toward the drone. The hole was relatively small, hardly a handsbreadth across, but her awareness of matter indicated it should be enough. But was it?
The hole touched the surface of the sphere—and suddenly the sphere was plunging into it, like a fat rabbit swallowed by a snake. Their concentration broke as they were flung out by the flexing impact. Then the recoil sucked them in after the drone, to be swallowed in its turbulent wake.