“Gates are capable of creating and stabilizing wormholes, which are essentially shortcuts in space-time,” he begins, talking down to her again. “When a wormhole is fully stable, a ship can travel through, thereby crossing enormous distances in an instant.”
The Masada Run will destabilize the Genesis Gate, but only for a while. Months, probably. Two or three years, if they’re lucky. Possibly just a matter of weeks. All those lives, including her own, will be spent for the mere chance that Genesis might gain an opportunity to rebuild and rearm itself, to beat their plowshares into swords, and then to plunge back into a war that they almost certainly can’t win.
Abel continues, “A wormhole can only be permanently stabilized through the use of so-called exotic matter. In the Gates, this exotic matters takes the form of supercooled gases kept even colder than the space beyond it, mere nanokelvins above absolute zero.”
Colder than outer space. Noemi has tried to imagine that before, but she can’t. The intensity of that chill is beyond any human reckoning.
Abel continues, “These gases are cooled by magnetic fields generated by several powerful electromagnets that make up the components of the Gate—”
“But all those components—they’re programmed to reinforce one another. It’s almost impossible to destroy one while the others are backing it up.”
He cocks his head. “You understand more about the components of a Gate than I would have thought.”
“What, you thought nobody from Genesis would’ve learned about this?”
“To judge by the extremely outdated and dilapidated condition of your current ships and armaments, Genesis appears to have all but abandoned scientific and technological advancement.”
From anyone else, that would be an insult. From Abel, it’s a simple, factual assessment. The insult would’ve been easier to take. “Apparently not, because I understand how a Gate works. Which means I know they’re supposed to be invulnerable. You say they’re not. How do we destroy one?”
He hesitates, and his reluctance is uncannily genuine. Too genuine, in Noemi’s opinion; Mansfield was showing off with this one. “Most efforts to damage or destroy a Gate are targeted at destroying the magnetic fields inside. However, it is not necessary to destroy the fields to collapse the Gate. Only to disrupt them.”
Noemi shakes her head. “But we can’t even manage that, not with every component supporting one another.”
“You’ve failed to see the obvious alternative.” Abel catches himself. “You shouldn’t feel that this failure reflects negatively on you. Relatively few humans are capable of the insight necessary to—”
“Just tell me.”
“Disrupting the fields doesn’t have to mean weakening or destroying them. It can also mean strengthening them.”
She opens her mouth to object. Strengthen it? How can making the Gate stronger possibly help them? Then the answer takes shape in her mind. “Strengthening the fields would warm the gases inside. When the exotic matter becomes too warm, the Gate will implode.”
Abel inclines his head, not quite a nod. “And destroy the wormhole forever.”
Noemi sinks into the nearest station, overwhelmed by the possibilities and problems she now sees. “But—any device powerful enough to overcome the Gate’s magnetic fields—where would we get that? Do any of those even exist?”
“There are thermomagnetic devices capable of creating that level of heat on their own. Not many, of course. The practical applications are limited.”
“But they are out there? We could find one?”
“Yes.”
She wants to hope—wants it so badly she can taste it—but Noemi can see all the problems with this plan already. “You’d have to activate it on the verge of the Gate. Otherwise the heat would melt your ship before you even reach the Gate. And you can’t just launch it remotely either. You’d have to have a pilot to work around the Gate’s defenses.”
“You understand a great deal about piloting for someone from a planet that has stubbornly refused to go anywhere.”
And that reminds her of the guilty longings she sometimes feels when she sees the speed of Earth ships, the complexity of the Gate, even the inhuman reflexes of their mechs. Noemi doesn’t want to be like people from Earth, but… she can’t help wanting to know what they know. To discover. To explore.
Her next flash of insight eclipses all those old dreams in an instant. “No human could do it. A human pilot would lose control or die from the heat too quickly.”
“True. Also, even if the human pilot could succeed, the Gate’s implosion would kill her instantly.”
Noemi hadn’t bothered worrying about that. Collapsing the Gate—saving her world—it’s worth one life. Her willingness to make that sacrifice is irrelevant if she would only fail. But there’s another possibility. “A mech could do it, right?”
Abel hesitates before answering, just long enough for her to be aware of it. “Not most mechs. They’re programmed to go into basic utility mode during self-damaging tasks. You’d need an advanced model. One capable of thinking even at the point of destruction.”
“An advanced model like you.”
He straightens. “Yes.”
Abel clearly has no instinct for self-preservation that overrides the orders given by his commander. The air lock proved that. If she tells him to destroy the Gate and be destroyed along with it, he will.
Noemi would gladly lay down her life to save Genesis. So she can ask a mech to give up… whatever it is he has.
Slowly she rises from the chair. The projected starlight shines softly around her, making the moment even more dreamlike than it already is.
Her only plan had been steering the Daedalus toward Genesis and bringing Esther’s body home. She’d had a vague idea of turning the ship and the mech over to her superior officers, in case they could be used in the war effort. Some small contributions that would outlive her, that could go on serving after the Masada Run.
Instead she’s found a mech not only aware of how to destroy a Gate but also capable of helping her do it. And a ship that could take her through the Loop to find the device she needs—Earth would come after any Genesis ship, she thinks, but they won’t be on the lookout for this one. This could actually work.
It means throwing herself through the galaxy, to planets she’s never seen before. It means risking her life, maybe even winding up in an Earth prison, defeated and helpless—which would be so much worse than dying in the Masada Run. It means leaving Genesis behind, maybe forever.
She turns to Abel. “We’re going to destroy this Gate.”