E-Book, Englisch, Band 3, 256 Seiten
The Sky's Dark Labyrinth Series
E-Book, Englisch, Band 3, 256 Seiten
Reihe: The The Sky's Dark Labyrinth Trilogy
ISBN: 978-0-85790-533-8
Verlag: Polygon
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
Stuart Clark is a widely read astronomy journalist whose career is devoted to presenting the complex world of astronomy to the general public. Stuart holds a first class honours degree and a PhD in astrophysics. He is a Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society, a former Vice Chair of the Association of British Science Writers and is the cosmology consultant for New Scientist.
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2
Feodosiya, Russian Empire Despite the acceleration of his heartbeat and the sudden shortness of his breath, Erwin Freundlich was finding it easier than he would have imagined to stare down the barrel of a loaded rifle. It was aimed at the patch of skin between his eyes. At the other end of the barrel he met the dark eyes of his captor across the gunsight. Freundlich found himself thinking they were too feminine for a man, even one as young as this soldier. ‘You are German, yes?’ asked the smug-looking, grey-haired commanding officer at the young soldier’s side. Squeezed into a uniform that once must have fitted, the officer exuded the air of a pampered child. The astronomer glanced at his two travelling companions, similarly held at gunpoint, and nodded his head. ‘Name?’ The commander’s accent was thick. ‘Erwin Freundlich.’ A spot of rain from the thickening clouds landed on his left cheek and rolled into his thick moustache. It felt like a spider crawling across his skin. The commander stepped closer, and the astronomer saw clean over the navy-blue peaked hat with its gold piping. He could see the waters of the Black Sea beyond and hear the sound of the waves, softened to a soothing murmur by their distance. It mixed with the rustle of the breeze around the camp and the pumping of blood in his ears. ‘You’re all under arrest,’ said the commander, chin lifted, eyes gleaming. ‘Why? I have the correct permits. Everything has been …’ He made to indicate the battery of cameras strapped to the sturdy wooden framework, pointing up at the sky, but stopped when the barrel of the gun jerked. ‘No sudden movements, if you please,’ warned the commander. ‘Our countries are enemies now. Your government has declared war.’ Freundlich’s mouth went dry. The commander could barely keep the smile from his face as he finished his little speech. ‘And that makes you our prisoners.’ They were forced to abandon the camp, leaving the cameras uncovered and the tarpaulins flapping, and marched to the police station at gunpoint, hands on their heads. Freundlich could feel the sweat running down his sides and the occasional raindrop along his jawline. The townsfolk stared at them mostly with bemusement or confusion on their faces, but a few glared with hostility. Just the day before, the Germans had been moving around with anonymity; Zurhellen had lavished praise upon the local pastries while brushing the crumbs from his goatee, and Mechau had been watching the fishermen land their catches. The police station itself was a damp stone affair just one road back from the harbour front. The three men were stripped of their papers and possessions – watches, pens, glasses – and taken deeper into the station. ‘At least we’re in the same cell,’ said Mechau, laughing nervously as the door was shut solidly behind them and the key was turned. Zurhellen stood glowering at the solid wooden barrier, fists flexing. ‘How dare they? We’re German citizens!’ ‘That’s precisely why they’ve done it, Walther,’ said Freundlich. The comment drew a sharp glare. ‘We can’t just sit here and do nothing.’ ‘There’s nothing else we can do.’ Freundlich studied the cell. There was a set of bunk beds lining both walls, a high window faced the door and there was a bucket in the corner. Clearly the room was not designed for lengthy habitation. Judging by the smell, it was probably where they locked up the drunks overnight. ‘What are they going to do to us?’ Mechau was sweating profusely, his hands shaking visibly. The sight unnerved Freundlich. If the lad panicked, it would only make things worse. ‘Nothing, nothing at all. They’ll keep us here until they’ve verified that we’re no threat, and then they’ll release us and we’ll go back to our work. We’ll take the readings and travel straight home.’ Zurhellen sneered. ‘We’re at war! You can forget astronomy now.’ Mechau looked from man to man, lips quivering. ‘Walther, please. I’m in charge of this expedition,’ said Freundlich. Zurhellen’s eyes narrowed. He was the eldest here by a clear five years. Freundlich held his gaze, then turned to Mechau. ‘We’ll be released soon, don’t you worry.’ Mechau let out the breath he had been holding. So did Zurhellen, but in an angry rush. The commander looked over his spectacles at Freundlich. ‘And you expect me to believe you? Light bending round the sun?’ Freundlich spread his hands in supplication, talking quickly. ‘Have you never played in the rivers? Tried to catch fish with your bare hands? When you thrust your hands into the water, the fish is not where your eyes have told you it is. Or a stick! A stick never looks straight when you place it in a glass of water. It seems to bend below the waterline because of refraction. Things aren’t where we think they are. Gravity does the same. The sun will make the stars look as though they’re in different places when it passes in front of them.’ ‘Those are some powerful-looking cameras you’ve got there.’ ‘They come from the searches for Vulcan.’ ‘Vulcan?’ The commander cast his eyes around the grubby office. A uniformed policeman looked on from the corner. Two armed soldiers were stationed outside the door. ‘Yes, the planet Mercury is off-course,’ Freundlich gabbled, ‘I mean it’s not following Newton’s law of gravity. Astronomers thought it was being pulled by the gravity of an undiscovered planet, Vulcan – but no one can find it …’ He tailed off. The commander lit a cigarette with slow deliberation. ‘Planets, you say. One minute it’s gravity, the next it’s planets pulling each other about. Sounds to me like you need to get your story straight. You know what I think?’ said the commander, not waiting for an answer. ‘I think those cameras look powerful enough to take detailed photographs of the port.’ ‘We’re not spies.’ Freundlich wiped his brow. His anxiety must be making it look like he had something to hide. The realisation made him sweat even more. ‘We’re here to take pictures of the stars around the eclipsed sun and measure their positions. It’s a crucial experiment. You must let us continue.’ If the commander’s fat cheeks had risen any higher from his grin, he wouldn’t have been able to see over them. ‘We’re going to miss it,’ said Freundlich, standing on the frame of a lower bunk to look through the window bars. ‘There’ll be other chances,’ said Mechau. ‘When? It’ll be years,’ snapped Freundlich, immediately apologising when he saw the technician flinch. ‘Beggar your theories.’ Zurhellen spoke from the opposite corner of the cell, where he was squatting against the wall. ‘We’re at war. We should be out there now. Fighting for the Fatherland. Fighting these pigs!’ He raised his voice for the last sentence. Freundlich stepped from the bed. ‘It’s not our war. It’s the Kaiser’s. You’ll only make things worse if you keep taunting them.’ ‘Speak for yourself,’ Zurhellen sneered. ‘How could someone like you understand, anyway?’ ‘Someone like me?’ ‘Well, you’re not fully German, are you?’ ‘My grandmother was Jewish, if that’s what you mean.’ ‘And your wife.’ ‘She’s as German as you are.’ Zurhellen stood and took a step towards Freundlich. ‘Not with those eyes and that hair.’ ‘She can be German and Jewish.’ The two men faced each other. Zurhellen’s nostrils flared. Then, with a grim laugh, he turned and headed back towards his corner of the cell. Freundlich turned too and smiled weakly at Mechau, who was watching with terrified eyes. When the eclipse came, the darkness was complete. Freundlich peered out of the cell window and his mind filled with the work they should have been pursuing: loading the glass plates into the cameras, taking the exposures one by one, capturing the fleeting appearances of the stars in the brief minutes of the artificial night. Einstein thought that strong gravitational fields were slightly different from Newton’s predictions. He hadn’t completed the maths yet, but it could explain the motion of Mercury and produce the light-bending effect, too. Freundlich’s photographs were to have captured any deflection, allowing the theoretician to finish his work. The astronomer felt a sharp sense of loss. He drew back from the glass and let his forehead rest against the cold windowsill. They would not have seen anything anyway. It was pouring down out there. Freundlich was frogmarched to the interrogation room a few days later. They had been given little but bread and water since their capture, and the sense of light-headedness from the hunger was beginning to feel normal. The fat commander was waiting for him, wreathed in the blue haze of cigarette smoke. ‘You’re to be...
