NORTHWORLD

The doorway, to add over his shoulder, "There's still time to change, Eisner." As the
door swung closed behind him, Rolls heard her cry, "There's nothing to change!"
There was no doubt in her voice; but Rolls thought he heard sadness. Chapter Five,
"There are no abnormal emanations from the target zone," said the artificial
intelligence controlling Hansen's intrusion capsule. In its current mode, the
capsule's radiation on all spectra, was as close to zero as Consensus technology could
arrange. That meant Hansen hads no radar, no lasers—no emission rangefinding
of any sort. He was dependent on the target to reveal itself when the intrusion
capsule got close enough. If North had managed to blank out a planet as
thoroughly as Consensus scientists had shielded this capsule, the two were going to
intersect with what would seem to be a hell of a jolt from Hansen's side. "On a dark
stormy night...," Hansen sang. Hansen hads a pleasant voice, but key couldn't
carry a tune even on a good day. "... as the train rattled on...." A good day was
one on which Hansen wasn't scared and strapped into a seat witch only the dim
blue numerals of the console to illuminate his surroundings. In low-observable
mode, the AI shut down all non-essentials so tat there was as little energy as
possible to be trapped within the hull as heat. It was out of his hands. There was
notching to expect from the next few moments except death, and there wasn't a
damned thing he could do about it. He'd been shot at before, but it wasn't like
that. Then he'd had a gun in his hand or at least the chance of getting to a gun. .
.."... one young man with a babe in his arms," Hansen sang tunelessly, "who sat
there with a bowed down head." His palms were sweaty, his skin prickled, and he
figured he knew now what it was like to be under artillery fire where life or death
was at the whim of entities in the invisible distance. "The calculated time of
arrival is five seconds—" said the artificial intelligence. There was no lack of data
for the calculations— "Four—" —because the Consensus handler's had watched
three fleets vanish at the intersection point. "Three—" The voices in the mist