Manhattan Transfer

by John E. Stith

Overview

Aliens kidnap Manhattan; read all about it. Manhattan is taken away and placed under a huge clear dome, through which the trapped residents can see dozens of similarly trapped alien cities.

First published in 1993. Very much in the same spirit and scope as the 1996 film Independence Day. Echoed in a small way by the 1996 Star Trek: Voyager episode "Displaced." Science Fiction Book Club selection. Reached the preliminary Nebula Award ballot. On the Science Fiction Chronicle best of year list. Rockies Award winner. HOMer Award nominee. Hugo Award Honorable Mention. Seiun Award nominee (Japan). La Tour Eiffel nominee (France).

Reviews

"Some ideas are just too good to pass up... the pleasure is in the nonstop action and the problem the characters must solve." -- New York Review of Science Fiction.

"Considerable ingenuity...Think of it as a visually spectacular movie...and a really outstanding, imaginative, and professional production staff and special effects crew working to bring off the big set--pieces and guarantee the thrills."--Locus

"How can you possibly resist?... Superscience SF in the classic vein, fast--moving, heroic...loaded with sensawunda. You'll love it."--Analog

Product Details

BN ID:	2940153104959
Publisher:	ReAnimus Press
Publication date:	08/01/2016
Sold by:	Smashwords
Format:	eBook
Sales rank:	734,125
File size:	1 MB

About the Author

John E. Stith's works include REDSHIFT RENDEZVOUS (Nebula Award nominee), MANHATTAN TRANSFER (Hugo Award Honorable Mention), REUNION ON NEVEREND, and RECKONING INFINITY (on Science Fiction Chronicle's 1997's Best Science Fiction Novels list, on the Nebula Award preliminary ballot). His other novels are SCAPESCOPE, MEMORY BLANK, DEATH TOLLS, and DEEP QUARRY. Naught Again includes a Nick Naught novella and a novelette. Stith's work also includes best sellers, a Seiun Award finalist, a La Tour Eiffel Science Fiction Book Prize finalist, HOMer Award winners, and Science Fiction Book Club selections. His work has also appeared on the New York Public Library Best Books for Young Adults list, Science Fiction Chronicle's List of Year's Best Novels, and the yearly Locus Recommended Reading Lists. His website is www.neverend.com Personal Facebook Page for interests beyond writing: www.facebook.com/john.e.stith More books from John E. Stith are available at: http://ReAnimus.com/store/?author=John E. Stith

Read an Excerpt

1

Going Up

Manhattan never sleeps. It doesn't even blink. By three in the morning, it was as close to lethargy as it ever gets, but that was still busier than a nursery full of hyperactive kids with megadoses of sugar and caffeine.

As something quite out of the ordinary began, Manhattan lay awake in the dark.

* * * * Slightly past the orbit of Saturn, over forty degrees above the plane of the ecliptic, ionized particles of the solar wind encountered a disruption where none had existed before.

Space twisted. An artificial rotating singularity deformed the fabric of space, bending it in on itself until a black hole formed. Charged particles that would normally have sped directly through the region, instead began to move in arcs, most of which ended at the singularity. They accelerated as their paths curved tighter toward the gravitational lens, speeding faster and faster as they approached, and, during their final nanoseconds of existence outside the event horizon, spewing X-rays like tiny distress calls.

The event horizon bloomed to a diameter of several hundred kilometers before it stabilized. While the solar wind funneled into the region, an enormous black starship emerged from inside the event horizon. The starship, almost as black as the region of space it slid out of, absorbed radiation across the entire spectrum as it spun sedately. As the nearby singularity was switched off, the event horizon shrank until it vanished, and the only obstruction to the solar wind was the ship itself.

The huge squat disk-shaped ship sported octagonal rather than circular endplates. The disk was about ten kilometers tall, as thick as a small moon, andthe octagonal endplates spanned over ten times that distance. The ship's spin slowed until it hung motionless in the dim starlight. The ship then began to pivot into the solar wind. The black ship kept adjusting its orientation until one octagonal surface pointed generally at the distant yellow G-type star. The precise alignment was at the small blue planet, third from the sun. Moments later, the enormous ship began to accelerate smoothly toward Earth.

* * * * The whup-whup-whup from the chopper's blades rose in pitch and volume as the pilot pulled back on the collective, and the chopper rose a meter off the concrete at the edge of Manhattan. The six passengers were all secured, and the sounds in the pilot's headphones were positive, reassuring. He let the craft hover a moment on the ground-effect cushion as he readjusted his shoulder strap. As soon as he felt in control, he let the chopper continue its rise. Below him the circular markings of Manhattan's East 60th Street heliport began to shrink. As he rose, he let the chopper turn slowly, and he scanned the space over nearby building tops. When the chopper faced the East River and JFK International beyond, the pilot pushed on the cyclic stick and tilted the chopper slightly forward, still rising as the craft began to move toward the airport.

The pilot enjoyed the runs between Manhattan and JFK, particularly at times like now--the morning rush hour. This was one of the few jobs in flying where you could "drive" over the roads below in Queens. He took a lot of pleasure in passing slow-moving traffic on the Long Island Expressway, BQE, and Van Wyck, cruising right over the stalls and backed up sections, ignoring pileups and emergacharge trucks.

He reached cruising height just before the East River. Below was the Queensboro Bridge, doing its best to jam more people into Manhattan.

A sudden shadow was the first indication of trouble. Reflexes took over and he lost a little altitude just in case. If the passengers complained, he couldn't tell, because the headphones and the rotor roar would block anything up to a scream.

The helicopter pilot had just convinced himself there was no problem when a faint pencil of red light cut the grimy sky vertically in front of the windshell bubble. He jammed the stick and tried to veer away, but he had no time. The whine of the rotors suddenly changed pitch as the rotor blades hit the shaft of laser light. The chopper became a machine gun, firing severed pieces of rotor off to his left. In milliseconds, the slicing light had whittled every rotor down to half its original length, and then the chopper itself hit the beam. A band saw moving at the speed of light, the laser sliced the chopper right down the middle. The engine overhead exploded as the casing surrounding the whirling components split into pieces.

Shrapnel from the exploding engine perforated bodies of the pilot and passengers as the two halves of the chopper began their plunge to the East River. The pilot hadn't even had time to utter the one word traditionally heard as black box recordings terminate.