“At the surface of the Core the hole’s gravity is down to a mere several hundred gee. At the outer edge of the Nebula — where we are — it’s down to about one per cent of a gee; but even though it’s so small here the hole’s gravity is what binds this Nebula together.
“And if we could travel into the Core itself we would find gravity climbing to thousands, millons of gee. Hollerbach has some theories about what happens near and within the Core, a realm of what he calls ‘gravitic chemistry’—”
Nead frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I bet you don’t,” Rees laughed. “But I’ll tell you anyway, so you’ll know the questions to ask…
“You see, in the day-to-day turmoil of things we — even we Scientists — tend to forget the central, astonishing fact of this cosmos — that the gravitational constant is a billon times larger than in the universe from which man arose. Oh, we see the macroscopic effects — for instance, a human body exerts a respectable gravitational field! — but what about the small, the subtle, the microscopic effects?”
In man’s original universe, Rees went on, gravity was the only significant force over the interstellar scale. But over short ranges — on the scale of an individual atom — gravity was so tiny as to be negligible. “It is utterly dominated by even the electromagnetic force,” Rees said. “And that is why our bodies are shambling cages of electromagnetism; and attractive electrical forces between molecules drive the chemistry that sustains our being.
“But here…” He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “Here, things are different. Here, in certain circumstances, gravity can be as significant on the atomic scale as other forces — even dominant.
“Hollerbach talks of a new kind of ‘atom.’ Its fundamental particles would be massive — perhaps they would be tiny black holes — and the atom would be bonded by gravity in novel, complex structures. A new type of chemistry — a gravitic chemistry — would be possible; a new realm of nature about whose form even Hollerbach can scarcely begin to speculate.”
Nead frowned. “But why haven’t we observed this ‘gravitic chemistry’?”
Rees nodded approvingly. “Good question. Hollerbach calculates that the right conditions must prevaiclass="underline" the right temperature and pressure, powerful gravitational gradients—”
“In the Core,” Nead breathed. “I see. So perhaps—”
There was a soft boom.
The Bridge shifted slightly, as if a wave were passing through its structure. The image in the monitor broke up.
Rees twisted. A sharp smell of burning, of smoke, touched his nostrils. The Scientists were milling in confusion, but the instruments seemed to be intact. Somewhere someone screamed.
Fear creased Nead’s brow. “Is that normal?”
“That came from the Library,” Rees murmured. “And, no, it’s not bloody normal.” He took a deep, calming breath; and when he spoke again his voice was steady. “It’s all right, Nead. I want you to get out of here as quickly as you can. Wait until…” His voice tailed away.
Nead looked at him, half-understanding. “Until what?”
“Until I send for you. Now move.”
The boy half-swam to the exit and pushed his way through the crowd of Scientists.
Trying to ignore the spreading panic around him Rees ran his fingers over the keyboard of the Telescope, locking the precious instrument into its rest position. Briefly he marveled at his own callous coolness. But in the end, he reflected, he was responding to a harsh, terrible truth. Humans could be replaced. The Telescope couldn’t.
When he turned from the keyboard the Observatory was deserted. Paper and small tools lay scattered over the incorruptible floor, or floated in the equilibrium layer. And still that smell of burning hung in the air.
With a sense of lightness he crossed the chamber floor and climbed out into the corridor. Smoke thickened the air, stinging his eyes, and as he approached the Library images of the imploded foundry and of the Theatre of Light confused his thoughts, as if his mind were a Telescope focusing on the buried depths of the past.
Entering the Library was like climbing into an ancient, decayed mouth. Books and papers had been turned to blackened leaves and blasted against the walls; the ruined paper had been soaked through by the efforts of Scientists to save their treasure. There were three men still here, beating at smoldering pages with damp blankets. At Rees’s entry one of them turned. Rees was moved to recognize Grye, tears streaking his blackened cheeks.
Rees ran a cautious finger over the shell of ruined books. How much had been lost this shift? — what wisdom that might have saved them all from the Nebula’s smoky death?
Something crackled under his feet. There were shards of glass scattered over the floor, and Rees made out the truncated, smoke-stained neck of a wine-sim bottle. Briefly he found himself marveling that such a simple invention as a bottle filled with burning oil could wreak so much damage.
There was nothing he could do here. He touched Grye’s shoulder briefly; then he turned and left the Bridge.
There was no sign of security guards at the door. The scene outside was chaotic. Rees had a blurred impression of running men, of flames on the horizon; the Raft was a panorama of fists and angry voices. The harsh starlight from above flattened the scene, making it colorless and gritty.
So it had come. His last hope that this incident might be restricted to just another attack on the Labs evaporated. The fragile web of trust and acceptance that had held the Raft together had finally collapsed…
A few hundred yards away he made out a group of youths surrounding a bulky man; Rees thought he recognized Captain Mith. The big man went down under a hail of blows. At first, Rees saw, he tried to defend his head, his crotch; but blood spread rapidly over his face and clothing, and soon fists and feet were pounding into a shapeless, unresisting bulk.
Rees turned his head away.
In the foreground a small group of Scientists sat numbly on the deck, staring into the distance. They surrounded a bundle which looked like a charred row of books — perhaps something recovered from the fire?
But there was the white of bone amid the charring.
He felt his throat constrict; he breathed deeply, drawing on all his experience. This was not a good time to succumb to panic.
He recognized Hollerbach. The old Chief Scientist sat a little apart from the rest, staring at the crumpled remains of his spectacles. He looked up as Rees approached, an almost comical mask of soot surrounding his eyes. “Eh? Oh, it’s you, boy. Well, this is a fine thing, isn’t it?”
“What’s happening, Hollerbach?”
Hollerbach toyed with his glasses. “Look at this. Half a million shifts old, these were, and absolutely irreplaceable. Of course, they never worked—” He looked up vaguely. “Isn’t it obvious what’s happening?” he snapped with something of his former vigor. “Revolution. The frustration, the hunger, the privations — they’re lashing out at what they can reach. And that’s us. It’s so damn stupid—”
Unexpected anger flared in Rees. “I’ll tell you what’s stupid. You people keeping the rest of the Raft — and my own people on the Belt — in ignorance and hunger. That’s what’s stupid…”
Hollerbach’s eyes in their pools of wrinkles looked enormously tired. “Well, you may be right, lad; but there’s nothing I can do about it now, and there never was. My job was to keep the Raft intact. And who’s going to do that in the future, eh?”
“Mine rat.” The voice behind him was breathless, almost cracked with exhilaration. Rees whirled. Gover’s face was flushed, his eyes alive. He had torn the braids from his shoulders and his arms were blood-stained to the elbows. Behind him a dozen or more young men approached; as they studied the Officers’ homes their faces were narrow with hunger.