Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [78]
Chris had arrived by now, although he had to move aside to let the robot leave. Together, Nyssa and Chris took one of the metal boxes down and laid it on the floor. It was bulky, but surprisingly light. Nyssa opened up the case.
Inside there was a lot of grey foam padding, a material that Chris told her was designed to block sensor beams. The foam was swaddling a metal cylinder the size of a cigar, featureless apart from a green cap and a seam exactly halfway along it. She placed it on a nearby workbench.
‘It’s a fusion bomb,’ Chris announced, a hint of awe in his voice.
‘A device that creates an uncontrolled nuclear fusion reaction?’ Nyssa was horrified by the thought of such an indiscriminate weapon. ‘The energy created would be huge. An area would be totally vaporized:’ The device was tiny – but it didn’t need to be very big. The, principle behind the bomb was simple, just an adaptation of an everyday cold fusion generator, but what sort of person was capable of thinking of such an application? Nyssa felt cold.
This was science gone mad.
Chris nodded. ‘Each one of these charges is enough to level a city and kill fifty million people.’ He accepted the existence of such a device without question. This thing had been designed and built by his people, Tegan’s people.
Chris was clearly fascinated by the device, like a fly by amber.
Nyssa tried to keep her voice steady. ‘The Adjudicators and the Scientifica rule this planet. Why would they want to destroy it?’
‘That’s not the worst of it.’
Nyssa opened her mouth, unable to conceive of anything worse than being in a room packed with bombs powerful enough to kill a billion people instantly. Then she realized. ‘If these were set to go off in sequence then there would be a chain reaction. The blast area would increase logarithmically.’
Chris nodded grimly. ‘Fusion tests were done out on the Rim in the twenty-third century: five of these charges are enough to destroy a planet. Eight will shatter every solid planet in a solar system and ignite the gas giants. These things were banned before they could try testing nine or ten. The human race has never used them in war, even as a last resort. The Provost-General thinks he needs twenty-four – and what’s more, whoever is supplying him can get hold of them.’
‘Hands in the air.’
A space pilot was covering them with a slim pistol. He had followed them into the hold without them noticing.
He was calm, aware that he could gun both of them down.
‘A crew complement of eight,’ Nyssa noted, trying to keep her voice steady. Cwej had said that back in the rest room. They’d seen one pilot, then six astronauts. This one hadn’t been accounted for. They raised their hands. The pilot was in his thirties. He was tanned and although he didn’t have Chris’s physique, he clearly kept fit. He was watching them both, but his attention was drawn by Nyssa, particularly the neckline of her dress. On the edge of her vision Cwej was slipping forward. For the first time she understood why Chris had insisted on the silk dress. The pilot’s eyes met hers. The lascivious expression he wore repelled her, but she forced herself to smile.
Chris lurched forward.
‘Stay back,’ the pilot warned, bringing the pistol round.
Chris stopped in his tracks, surprised how quickly the pilot had been able to react. Without taking his eyes off them, the pilot reached out for the communications panel on the wall.
Nyssa’s hand found the table behind her. Her hand crept up the surface until she found what she was looking for. Chris was edging forwards again.
The pilot twitched the pistol. ‘Stay still. One more move out of you and –’ He turned, distracted by the faint digital bleeping from the other side of the room.
Nyssa made a show of looking puzzled. ‘How long is fifteen seconds?’ she asked sweetly, holding up the fusion bomb. She was surprised how light it was.
Both