RELLAJ
1.
A massive metal plate lurched forward. The lower edge of the
blade scraped along the ground, skimming up a thin layer of
soil. The soil crunched as it pulverized, sending a thin cloud
of dust into the air, which rose and then swooped back down over
the growing pile of dirt. The roar of a diesel engine worked in
unison with the blade. Behind the diesel engine, surrounded in
a cage of chipped, yellow metal, sat the bulldozer operator, a
blue hard hat on his head, flip-down sunglasses over his eyes.
He fought with the steering levers.
The dirt was hard, especially since it was so dry. He
remembered his boss telling him how much colder it got on the
mountain top, that when it was drizzling in town, there could be
drivers fighting for their lives in an ice storm only 600 feet
above the misty rains of the valley. It was late summer now,
and, although humid August afternoons in the mountains
of Pennsylvania could make the shirt dark and soaked with sweat
on his back, it was cool today.
He revved the engine, and the blade moved forward again, toward
his objective. Above the grating of the metal blade and the
stench of diesel exhaust, stretched a pristine, blue sky. The
sun was brilliant now in the dry air, and it made the side of
his face burn. A puff of dust flew upward as the blade met the
boulder.
It was a rock, just like any of the couple hundred or so that
he had pushed before with the clanking metal behemoth. It was
dome shaped and smooth. He thought of how it looked like a
giant pebble, only rougher. It was about five feet wide and a
yard tall at the center.
The blade stuck at the base of the boulder. He felt the treads
tighten up underneath him, like the underside of a giant
caterpillar trying to push a leaf much larger than itself. He
eased off the throttle momentarily.
"Yo!" he heard someone holler.
Another man ran and stood near the boulder.
"Lift a little more when you --" he heard him holler above the
engine. The man's face turned red as he screamed from the cloud
of dust that swirled about him in the late afternoon breeze, on
the highest point of the highest ridge in the whole county.
He raised the blade a little as he pushed farther. He felt the
tension growing again. Suddenly, the bulldozer jerked forward,
after a loud "SNAP!" from up front. He thought he saw the cloud
of dust suddenly shoot down toward the ground, to where the
boulder was. The dust just above the top of the blade simply
disappeared. The rest of the cloud, several feet further out,
moved inward, toward the top of the rock that peeked above the
bulldozer blade. It moved for only a couple seconds. He heard a
rushing sound as the dust sucked to the ground.
His friend was now holding his hands up in the air, urging him
to stop. His face took on a weird expression.
"Back off!" he started shouting, his gaze transfixed on the
boulder. "Back off so --"
The renewed roar of the engine drowned out his voice. A huge
cloud of dirt boiled from beneath the rear of the bulldozer as
he lowered the blade and backed up several yards. He eased the
blade down, the whine of the hydraulic pumps like music to his
ears.
The man was motioning him down. This he didn't need. In only
another hour, he wanted to be home and in the shower. His
daughter's fifth birthday party was tonight, and all her
kindergarten friends were coming, along with some of their
parents, one of who was the owner of Martin's Contracting Co.
His face flushed with irritation.
"Just let me move the goddamn rock!" he shouted to himself.
His friend's hard hat was at his side, tucked underneath his
tattooed left arm. Unbuckling himself from the seat, he climbed
out of the cage and stood for a moment on the right tread.
The man was pointing down to where the boulder had been sitting
moments ago. Stepping to the ground, he skirted the edge of the
blade and saw it for himself.
The boulder had moved. It now lay in very close to its
original orientation, the orange paint spot still gleaming at
the top of its dome shaped surface, marking where the center of
the tower would lie.
Between the bulldozer and the boulder, the brown soil was free
of underbrush. He could make out the shallow recess where the
rock had sat. In the center of the depression, there was a
round hole, about three feet in diameter.
"What the hell?"
They stood next to the opening. It was perfectly round, and it
continued as far as they could see amid the swirling dust from
the machine, at a steep angle, into the blackness below.
He kneeled and smelled the air. It was damp, like the inside
of the caves he explored as a kid, the rooms he had entered with
several inches of water on the floor. Just as his toes had felt
a pleasant coolness through his boots while wading through cave
water, so his face now felt that coolness, from the darkness
below. He ran his right hand into the hole, and he felt more
stone. Placing his head inside, he could dimly make out the
scorch marks that lined the walls of the tunnel.
"Holy shit!" his friend kept muttering. He looked from the
hole, up the red fabric of his friend's shirt, now flapping in
the stiffening breeze.
Jumping up, he ran back to the bulldozer and shut down the
engine. Reaching down in front of the seat, he grabbed his bag
and found a flashlight. He rubbed the warm, chrome shaft of the
flashlight as he stared straight into the head containing the
bulb and reflector.
"Good thing I put new batteries in here" he thought.
His friend's breathing was heavy.
"What do ya' make of that, Joe?"
"This isn't natural. It looks like it was blasted."
"Could it be a cave?"
"Well, it's certainly a cave! It's just a matter of whether
someone dug it, or whether nature did all the work. And this
cave ain't natural."
He switched on the flashlight. Swinging the beam into the
tunnel, he stopped breathing. The cold air was now moving more
quickly from inside the cave. It smelled of dampness and decay.
A rotting odor grew stronger as he inhaled in shallow breaths.
The air was barely moving, reminding him of the slightest breeze
on a cold, rainy day, just enough to make you feel cold inside
whatever you were wearing, chilling you to the bone.
A sudden gust of wind pushed him forward a couple inches, and
he jerked back with a start. His neck grew tired as he moved
slightly forward, now wary of another gust that could push him
into the tunnel.
"That's silly" he thought. "This hole's so small anyway.
It'd be tough to climb into this damn hole let alone fall in."
He wiped his forehead with the shirt sleeve on his right upper
arm and felt the cold sweat there. His skin was like ice. It
was when he exhaled heavily that he saw the condensing vapor
stream from his mouth and into the tunnel.
Silent.
The beam cut through the thin dust in the air. The tunnel
continued down as far as the beam could reach, perhaps thirty
feet or so. The passageway was approximately circular in cross
section, its walls a mixture of gray and black stone, with
scorched gouges, just like those that lined the top of the
tunnel.
"What's it look like?" came the muffled voice of the other.
"Goes down as far as I can see" he blurted. He heard a very
rapid echo as he spoke, and more wisps of vapor floated from his
mouth into the cave.
"It looks like a throat" he thought. "No, that's stupid! It's
just a cave." That that was the first thought that had occurred
to him when he saw the opening.
"The rock lining the edge of the tunnel looks like old cracked
lips, leading down into this throat of gray stone."
The air seemed to suck back into the tunnel, moving him a
fraction of an inch further. The air moved back out again, and
he noticed that his jaw was now almost stiff with cold.
He thought it was the wind circulating through the tunnel from
behind him, but he noticed how still it felt behind him. The
air flow had slowed, but he still felt the rhythmic movement of
the air, so cold, so damp, and now with a stronger smell of rot,
not like the leaves decaying in the Spring thaw, but like ...
A cold stench pushed forward into his face, and he thought he
heard a wheeze, from deep within the tunnel, a whisper. He felt
his arms shivering. "Aaaaaah" the distant voice whispered. He
felt someone watching him. There was a voice from down in
there, breathing from deep in the tunnel, its breath rotten like
that of a huge predator lying down after the kill.
The other tapped him on the back.
He pulled back fiercely, his heart jumping in his chest.
"Goddamnit!" he shouted as he pulled out of the tunnel.
"Don't be doin' that!"
"Sorry! I kept asking you what you saw, and you weren't
answerin' me!"
He pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning his back
against the boulder.
"It's the same as far down as I can see, maybe about ten yards
or so. There's a lot of dust in the air, probably from when we
moved the boulder."
He thought of the cold breath, the whisper. He heard it again
in his head.
"Aaaaaaah."
"No, the wind whistling through caverns can make you swear you
heard things that really aren't there."
His friend was looking in amazement at his face. His widening
eyes struck fear into him. His mouth was hanging halfway open,
as though he had just seen a ghost.
"Your face" he said, his own fingers tracing down his cheeks,
"has frost on it!"
He massaged the beard that covered his chin and cheeks. It was
so cold, and only now was feeling returning to his jaw. His
fingers felt the granular ice that hung like miniature beads on
his whiskers, that liquefied instantly to his touch. The water
was ice cold.
"Was it that cold in there?" the other asked, stooping down on
the ground with his head near the opening.
"Yeah, but it doesn't make sense. There's no cave 'round here
that could be cold like that! All the caves I was in were
around fifty degrees or so, never below freezing!"
"And why did it suck in air like that when you moved the rock
from on top of it?"
He remembered the cracking sound, as well as the dust sucking
into the hole for several seconds, just as the boulder had begun
to move across the rocks at the lip of the tunnel with that deep
grating sound, like someone lifting and pushing the stone cover
off a sarcophagus.
"The pressure must've been lower in there" the other said.
"Right. So the rock formed a seal over the hole. But why
would someone seal something so tight?"
Their glances met. The other's lips moved first.
"What above a grave? In Egypt, they sealed the tombs airtight.
Maybe this is a ... a tomb."
He scrambled to a stooping position and stuck his head into the
tunnel. The air felt warmer now. He breathed out, right into
the flashlight beam, but saw no condensing vapor.
Then he heard the whisper again, and his face felt cold.
Simultaneously, the flashlight winked out.
After banging the flashlight against his right hand and then
his leg, he gave up.
"This could be some kind of ancient Indian tomb. We'll have to
get a new set of batteries for the light. Should we tell
Martin?"
"Not yet. You never know, if it is some old tomb, and it's
this goddamn big, maybe the guy was a chief or somethin'."
The other's face lit up.
"You think there could be somethin' valuable down there?"
"Maybe. One never knows."
He stood up and beat the dust out of his pants. The sun was
growing softer, and its warmth felt good on his face.
"Let's get going. I have to get home early today anyway. We
can check this out tomorrow. Nobody'll be here until then."
They started closing their equipment. As they left, the wind
was blowing hard against the windshield of the pickup. They
drove off, leaving the stone mouth open to the sky.
When they got back to the equipment garage, he tested the
batteries with a voltmeter, just for the hell of it. He went
home amazed. He had never seen six batteries drained down to
0.00 volts in under a second.
2.
Mark turned the steering wheel sharply. The wheels of the van
bounced through a small ravine, and the engine strained as it
pulled the vehicle up the following slope of dirt and gravel.
As the van tilted upward, Mark squinted in the sunlight. It
would be a clear night tonight, as the sun still had the
yellowish white appearance of the noonday sun, even though it
was about an hour from setting. He smelled the dust which
smoked from about the tires of the van, its gray metal body
skimming between the underbrush which grew out into the road.
The van entered a level clearing, and he guided it to the
right, onto a gently sloping, sand covered pathway. As the van
bumped softly along the shallow ruts in the path, he heard the
scraping of twigs from the vegetation surrounding him. He
rounded a bend, and the blank, white brick of the observatory
building became visible.
The van entered the clearing surrounding the observatory.
Large ruts now ran over the grass which normally covered the
observatory grounds. Several sets were visible. The first was
a shallow set of gouges which marked the wheels of cars and
pickup trucks which sought a new destination, beyond the
observatory, further into the woods where once only trees and
underbrush had grown. The second set was heavier and much
deeper, those made by a large bulldozer which had crossed on a
rainy day, so that the treads had dug into the mud. Now, in
the dry afternoon heat after a week without rain, the tracks
were hard and crunchy, still holding the definition of the
caterpillar tread which had sculpted them.
Mark parked the van near the observatory and switched off the
engine. For the first half minute or so, he just sat there in
the van, doing nothing, savoring the silence which surrounded
him. Not a man-made sound could be heard. Only the gentle
blowing of the wind through the leaves of the trees and the
singing of birds, romping over land and through the clear air
above, were audible.
He climbed out of the van and grabbed his book bag and dinner,
packaged neatly in a brown paper bag. He rolled up the driver's
window in the van but left the door unlocked. As he walked
towards the observatory, he traced his vision along the ruts,
until they disappeared into the brush.
"I sure hope that weather station won't interfere with us" he
thought. The Falls State observatory had been in operation for
well over a decade and a half, alone on the state park lands in
central Pennsylvania, on the highest ridge in the area to afford
the best view of the sky. The large reflecting telescope,
roughly a meter and a half in diameter, was the most massive of
its kind east of the Mississippi River, a claim of which the
astronomers at Falls State were proud. Unfortunately, the
viewing conditions were somewhat less than idyllic, with clouds
hampering sensitive work such as absolute photometry and
limiting observations to brighter objects. Several years
earlier, Falls State had decided to mothball the entire
observatory, due to insufficient operating funds and a general
lack of interest in using the facility. Today one could take a
five hour flight to Kitt Peak observatories, where the viewing
would be about four to five times better.
But Mark was doing some interesting stellar astronomy,
observing stars bright enough to be investigated with minimal
time on a slightly cloudy and hazy evening. For his purposes,
the observatory was more than adequate, and he only had to drive
about 25 miles from campus to reach the place.
During the period of mothballing, the university had embarked
on a massive meteorological project, involving the installation
of a new technology Doppler radar facility for storm research.
They had looked far and wide throughout the surrounding
countryside for the ideal site. Of course, the best choice on
which they settled was Copperhead Mountain, the site of the
Falls State Observatory. Contacting the administration at Falls
State, they learned that the observatory had been
decommissioned, so they went ahead and made their plans to
locate the weather radar station a mere 800 feet from the
observatory.
Unfortunately, no one in the astronomy department had notified
the project members that the observatory was back in operation,
and due to the high level of funding the weather radar project
was receiving, the observatory was given second priority, and
the astronomers were told that they would hopefully be able to
deal with the consequences of the operation of the powerful
klystron at the heart of the radar installation. The
astronomers realized there would be many problems, such as
side-lobe electromagnetic radiation from the transmitter, which
engineers had estimated would be sufficient to wreak havoc on
the sensitive electronics utilized for data acquisition with the
telescope.
So, in the haste to complete an overdue thesis project, Mark
was taking advantage of every clear night that arose. As a
result, he only needed a couple more nights worth of observing
to complete the database for his thesis.
The heavy equipment had been rolling past the formerly isolated
observatory, digging the ruts that Mark now saw. Trees had been
cleared in the midst of a stand of forest, soon to be the
central location of the weather station. A large eighty foot
tower would stand in the center of the clearing, which was
invisible from his ground level vantage point. He unlocked the
observatory's front door and pushed hard until it swung open.
After booting the observatory's telescope and instrumentation
control computers, he entered the observatory dome. Walking up
the steep ramp from the floor of the dome, he saw the large
telescope, aimed to zenith, quiet and motionless beneath the
metal dome. He unlocked the shutter and manually cranked open a
six foot wide slit in the dome. The breeze entered the
structure and swirled about the telescope.
Mark went back downstairs and grabbed his bag of dinner.
"I should sit on the roof and eat today. I can see how far
they've come on the construction work."
He went outside the building and walked around its perimeter,
until he found the gray metal ladder that enabled access to the
flat roof over the living and machine shop areas of the
observatory. Climbing it carefully, he squinted into the
sunlight which shone from just above the swaying treetops in the
distance. He seated himself near the sunward edge of the roof
and began to eat. Looking to his right, he saw the clearing
now, over the tops of shrubs and trees. Wood markers ran around
the edge of the 50 foot diameter clearing, each marked with
spots of bright orange paint. Rocks were piled unevenly around
the edge of the clearing, those the workers had gathered from
the surface while they had cleared the underbrush from the site.
A yellow bulldozer sat near the center of the clearing, now
glowing in the light of early sunset.
Mark noticed the single large boulder which lay several yards
in front of the bulldozer. It was huge compared to any of the
other rocks which had been cleared. He was amazed at its smooth
domed shape.
"It looks so much smoother than the other rocks around it. I'll
take a closer look at it."
He left his dinner on the roof, except for a half eaten
sandwich that he continued to chew as he climbed down the ladder
and began to walk along the ruts and into the trees. He entered
the clearing and skirted around the bulldozer, knocking loudly
on the metal blade before reaching the boulder.
"Yo!" he shouted. He had stopped just short of the large
hole. His heart jumped when he saw that it was far more than
just the indentation created by the weight of the boulder. The
boulder had once neatly covered the opening, as there was a
large scrape between the hole and the boulder's present
location. Kneeling down, he peered into the hole.
"This is not a natural cave. Someone built this." He realized
that this could not be part of the construction of the weather
station. It seemed to be of ancient origin.
"By the draft coming from the opening, this passage must
continue for quite some way, possibly into chambers and other
tunnels."
The air felt unusually cold, but this did not bother him in the
least. As a young boy, he had been climbing into and through
caves in West Virginia. He felt just as at home deep
underground as he did gazing into the endless voids of the
heavens. Concluding that the slope of the tunnel was shallow
enough to allow stable footholds during a descent, he ran back
to the observatory to get a flashlight.
He bounded through the doorways of the observatory, lightly
bruising his elbow as it smacked a metal door knob. He found
the large rechargeable emergency light which was used for
nighttime troubleshooting of the telescope hardware. Within a
minute, he was standing back at the mouth of the underground
tunnel. He switched on the light and shook it, testing its
stability.
So much excitement was coursing through his veins that he had
forgotten about preparing the telescope for the night's
observations. Kneeling on the ground, he backed into the
passageway, feet first. Within ten seconds, he had disappeared
into the stone throat below.
Progress was slow throughout the descent. He carefully chose
and tested each foothold, in gaps between the rough bricks,
before extending his other foot for the next step. He noticed
that the air was very cold down here, so cold that his breath
was condensing in the beam of the flashlight. His skin felt
numb, but he ignored this as he descended into the unknown.
He thought of some ancient native American, buried in a chamber
below, ceremonial artifacts placed around the corpse. He
wondered if the construction workers had climbed into the
tunnel, but he thought not, since his feet were smudging a
smooth layer of dark gray dust from the surface of the lighter
gray stone, which seemed untouched below him.
By shining the flashlight beneath himself and along the
passageway, he realized how deep the tunnel was extending. He
could not see the bottom, and already, by the diminishing size
of the circle of light above him, he had probably descended some
fifty feet. Mark continued, for another five minutes. When he
shone his flashlight along the length of the tunnel again, he
saw the bottom, about another twenty feet below. In a few
minutes, his crawl had brought him to a level position on the
tunnel floor, which was lined with the same stone as the walls
of the upper tunnel. The draft was gentler here.
Standing up and massaging his lower back, Mark saw that he now
stood in a tunnel with a hemispherical ceiling, about two feet
above his head. He swept the flashlight around and saw only
featureless, gray stone. No sound of running water echoed
through the tunnel. The damp odor he had noticed in the upper
tunnel was absent down here.
"Damn it's cold!" he said aloud. His voice boomed through the
tunnel, fading into silence. As he began walking along the
passageway, he noticed that he was shivering, and goose bumps
tightened the skin on his arms and neck. The excitement was
draining away, to be replaced by an anxiety which created a pit
in his stomach.
"What is this place? Could European settlers in the area have
built this? It doesn't make sense. There were no large
settlements or communities here, and why would they have done
something like this? It seems to serve no purpose."
He felt a warmth on his shoulder, like ... someone's hand.
Spinning around, his light fell to the ground and rolled onto
its side. He dropped to a crouch and grabbed the lantern,
immediately shining it through the tunnel. No one was there.
His breathing slowed.
"Shit! I could've sworn that someone was there."
He suddenly felt foolish that he had been so upset by something
conjured up by his own imagination. "Shit!" he shouted into the
darkness, a smile appearing on his face. Mark walked through
the tunnel.
His flashlight revealed no end to the tunnel as of yet. He
aimed the light at his watch. Realizing that the sun had
already set, he quickened his pace.
Just as he began moving, he noticed light up ahead. At first
he thought it was merely a reflection of the flashlight beam,
but, when he switched off the light and his eyes tried to adjust
to the complete darkness, he saw that light was streaming into
the tunnel a hundred or so feet ahead, onto the right wall. It
was blue in color and very steady. As he drew nearer to the
illumination, it appeared brighter. At last he knew that up
ahead, twenty feet in front of himself, an opening lay in the
left wall of the tunnel, through which the light was streaming.
He approached cautiously, his heart beating powerfully in his
chest, his breathing shallow. He wondered if someone was down
here with him. Perhaps the construction workers, having
discovered the tunnel, had ventured down here and were
investigating the chamber ahead.
Soon Mark stood next to the opening. No sound came from
within. He could see from his angle that a curved archway
served as the threshold for whatever lay beyond. The light was
ice blue. Mark stepped forward.
He stood in the circular archway and almost fainted. Before
him lay a large hemispherical chamber with a level floor,
perhaps twenty feet in diameter. Gentle ripples ran across the
floor and dome shaped ceiling. Four metallic cone shaped
objects were spaced at 90 degree intervals within the perimeter
of the chamber. They were each about five feet tall and two
feet in diameter at the base. They gleamed a dull gray color,
like the stone of the wall that stood behind them. What was
most fascinating of all, however, was the glowing blue-white
crystal that sat at the top of each cone. The crystal was
smoothly polished, and it was inset into the metal cone to form
the apex of the structure. All four of them shone brightly in
the darkness, beaming light throughout the chamber.
Mark stood breathless for quite a while, his mind a blank at
trying to comprehend the builder of this. All thoughts of
Indians and early settlers had vanished. He realized that the
construction workers would not have brought such light sources
into the tunnel. No, he knew that this was something of
extraordinary origin. He hesitated to use the term
extraterrestrial, but it seemed the only possible explanation at
this point.
He stepped into the chamber, squinting his eyes as he beheld
the strange glow. He finally noticed the structure which stood
at the center of the chamber. A metal cylinder, roughly a yard
tall and a foot in diameter, pierced the chamber floor. It
appeared to be made of the same gray metal as the cones. On top
of the cylinder sat a black cube, a about a foot on a side. A
clear, cylindrical structure joined smoothly with the metal
cylinder and formed a protective cap over the cube.
Walking to the cylinder, he gingerly touched the metal. It was
perfectly smooth and ice cold. He ran his hands up the cylinder
and over what seemed to be a thin crystal shell. The cube was
featureless. He tried to lift the crystal shell, but it
wouldn't budge. Wrapping his arms tightly around it, he put all
of his strength into prying off the cover.
Suddenly, it shattered. A deafening smashing sound sent him to
the ground. He sat there blinking for several seconds, stunned
by the sound and watching the shards of delicate crystal fall to
the floor and break into smaller pieces. He slowly stood and
brushed the pieces of crystal from his clothing.
"The lights are beginning to darken!"
The blue crystals were growing dimmer. He felt a surge of
fear, wondering what he had triggered. Approaching the cube, he
brushed the crystal shards from its surface. He placed his
fingers on its smooth metal surface and found that he could lift
it. He estimated its weight to be about twenty pounds. He
stood there for a minute, watching the crystals grow
progressively dimmer, at the same time noticing that the chamber
was growing warmer.
A humming noise caught his attention, causing renewed fear. It
was at a very low frequency, more something he felt than heard.
It grew more intense as the crystals grew dim enough to require
use of the flashlight. The ground below was now vibrating
powerfully, and his legs tingled. He smelled dust in the air,
and, as he swept the beam about the chamber, he saw that the
rock was beginning to pulverize. Dust issued from seams
appearing in the gray stone.
Mark turned and ran into the tunnel. Ahead, his lantern
revealed that the entire tunnel was disintegrating. A fog of
dust was filling the tunnel, and suddenly a gray stone about the
size of a bread box fell near him with a thud, cracking in half
as it struck the stone floor.
As the vibration grew louder, he began running back through the
tunnel, the cube wrapped in his arms, his lantern swinging
wildly between his fingers. He began coughing in the dust,
which was now a thick fog around him. Suddenly a wall appeared
before him, and he tripped and fell. A corner of the cube dug
into his ribs, and he shouted in pain. He could see blood
trickling from a deep cut a couple inches long on his chest. He
pushed the cube up into the tunnel and scrambled inside. Then,
grabbing the lantern from the floor, he began the ascent.
"My God, let me make it out! Let me live!"
He repeated "Let me live!" over and over as he scrambled over
the rock in the tunnel, which was also pulverizing, but more
slowly than that in the deeper tunnel below. His knees scraped
vigorously over the rock, tearing his pants and skin. He pushed
the cube ahead of him a couple feet, then climbed to meet it.
His head slammed into the roof of the crawlway, hard enough to
make him dizzy. His head throbbed with pain. He felt himself
grow faint for a moment, and he thought he was about to fall
backwards, down into the destruction below.
Breathing wildly and lurching forward, he continued his ascent.
For what seemed like an hour, he shoved the cube up the
crawlway, scuffing his knees in a new spot with each inch that
he advanced. His lantern slipped from his grasp and rolled into
the cloud of dust below. He looked up and saw that he was very
near ground level.
Strangely enough, however, the sky, which had been clear before
he had descended into the cave, and which the weather report had
stated should have been pristine for the entire night, was now a
boiling mass of thunderheads. As he neared the exit, the loud
vibrating noise began to subside. From below, he heard the
crashing sound of tons of rock collapsing from the tunnel walls
and ceiling.
He finally reached the exit. Mark heaved the cube outside and
quickly climbed out. He saw the blood on his chest, and his
knees were also bleeding. His head was still throbbing, and, as
he massaged the sore spot near his forehead, he looked to the
sky, and was amazed again.
Thunderheads, inky black and boiling madly, filled the sky.
Cracks of lightning produced flashes of orange light between
puffs of cloud and the ground. The discharges were more
fantastic than a 4th of July fireworks finale. Tongues of
electricity sheared branches from trees, sending spark showers
and puffs of smoke into the air. A continuous roll of thunder
enveloped the land, and bolts of lightning lit the sky. The
wind was already blowing at gale force, tearing leaves from
branches and filling the air with dirt and small rocks.
Mark noticed that the air felt hot. He cleared the dirt from
his eyes with fingers covered with grime and blood. His knees
were numb with pain, but his dizziness had subsided. The
ferocity of the weather was the only thing which kept him
conscious, and a heavy gust of wind pushed him backwards to the
ground. A large tree trunk split in half.
Through the blizzard of dust and debris, Mark saw a swirling
vortex, perhaps a quarter mile in diameter, wheeling its way
through the lower edge of the cloud blanket. It pulled the
black cloud filaments into its maw and twisted them ever
thinner, sending them forth again at what seemed like a hundred
miles per hour.
A horrific rumble now engulfed the land, one beyond the
continuous roll of thunder. The loudness forced Mark to cover
his ears. His chest vibrated and resonated with it, and his
mind filled with the terror that this was no ordinary storm.
Somehow, all of this was linked to the shattering of the crystal
shield over the cube.
"The cube!" he screamed. He looked to his feet, where the
black cube lay, dust scouring its surface.
Mark rolled onto his side and hugged the cube, which was still
cool to the touch. He gasped for breath in the hot air.
From above, dozens of shimmering, blue lights appeared,
scattered throughout the center of the vortex, which was now
slowing in rotational velocity.
Within seconds, chunks of silvery metal pierced the lower cloud
boundary, perhaps a thousand feet above the ground. Blue flames
shot from the bottom of the metal chunks, slowing their descent.
"They're robots!" he thought. The metal hulks, each about the
size of a small car, were approaching the surface. The blue
flames jetted from holes in a large hump on the back of each
creature. They were reflective and silver, with two arms and
two legs, roughly humanoid in relative proportions, and each was
capped with a spherical, metal head. From here, Mark could see
that each carried a large metal weapon, rifle-like in
appearance. One touched down next to the van, and it began
lumbering towards it, aiming its rifle at the driver's door.
With an intense flash of violet light, the van lurched as a
large hole was blown through it and into the brick of the
observatory. The creature did not recoil with the firing of the
weapon, but instead continued firing. The van was enveloped in
a shower of smoke and sparks, as chunks of molten metal spit
forth in every direction.
One of the volleys struck the gas tank, which detonated with a
deep thud, and a massive mushroom of flame and inky smoke rose
into the sky. The robot stumbled backwards in the heat of the
explosion. As it turned its face from the explosion, Mark could
see another visage behind the clear faceplate of its helmet.
The face was yellow and fleshy, and he thought he saw several
eyes staring at him.
More of the metal suited soldiers were now touching down,
surrounding the observatory. Suddenly, a brilliant orb of light
shot from the cloud vortex above, emitting a deafening sizzling
sound and burning the skin on Mark's face. It struck the
building, and the ground shook as a blast of heat and sound
marked the end of the structure.
Mark was screaming with terror, his voice inaudible to his own
ears in the thunderous roar which shook the mountain. He
grabbed the cube and went for the nearest wall of the forest,
away from the former observatory. As he disappeared into the
underbrush, he heard the crackling of more rifle shots, which
lit the trees and shrubs around him.
The low treetops afforded him some protection from the wind,
which Mark realized must have been the exhaust from some large
craft, hanging within the clouds to release the troop
detachment. The ground sloped steeply, and Mark half ran, half
slid over the dusty soil and through the foliage. As he dropped
in elevation, the sound lessened, and his ears stopped hurting.
"Are they here to avenge what I have done?" he wondered.
He thought of returning to the observatory and handing over the
cube. Perhaps they would be merciful and spare his life.
"I think not" he realized. "They destroyed the observatory and
the van without even checking to see if anyone was inside. So
why wouldn't they kill me just as quickly?"
He dispensed on the spot with any thought of turning himself in
to "the authorities." He realized that his first contact with
extraterrestrials, something he had dreamed about as a boy, had
been a mind shattering and deadly experience.
Renewed fear gripped him when he realized that the struggle had
just begun. He was alone, stumbling through a forest, far from
any help, lugging the cube in his arms. The local police, usual
recourse in time of trouble, would be helpless against the
rocket troopers which had descended like angry bees from the
cloud vortex.
His legs suddenly gave way, and Mark fell headlong to the
ground, his face scraping the branches of a bush. The cube
tumbled another few feet beyond him, before striking a tree and
rolling another yard to the side. As he tried to stand again,
he heard a loud crack.
A tree branch fell at his side, its end blackened and
smoldering. He turned and saw that a soldier had targeted him
and was taking aim for another shot. Mark dove for the cube and
began sliding on his rear down the hill, wincing in pain as
small rocks gouged into his tailbone. Another violet beam
extended several yards over his head and sawed a tree in half on
the other side of the valley into which he was descending.
"This one will call others!" he thought. "He sees that I have
the cube!"
He looked over his shoulder to see the soldier taking aim a
third time, its thick metal suit and ball-jointed limbs glinting
in the flashes of lightning which filled the sky.
For a split second, Mark saw his life flashing before his eyes.
He saw his mother, before her death several years earlier. He
saw himself and his younger brother, looking at the pictures of
a father he had never known, who had perished in a forest in
South Korea before Mark's first birthday.
He saw a bird flying overhead, its wings flapping aimlessly and
wildly to escape the expanding carnage. Mark felt anger, a
surging rage which engulfed him.
In that split second, as the clumsy metal finger closed on the
firing switch, Mark saw a small metal object falling towards the
soldier.
There was a flash of white light, and the suit was engulfed in
smoke. Mark saw bits of glowing metal zipping from the
explosion, and one rang off of the cube. A wave of hot air
shoved him back just as he tried to stand, and he began rolling
down the hill.
His shoulder struck a surfaced tree branch during the first
roll, and he grasped its gnarled surface with one hand, stopping
the fall.
A loud whistling noise sounded from further up the hillside,
and the tree branches above began splintering and tearing. Mark
looked up into the cascade of twigs, a loud metal scraping noise
hurting his ears.
Within seconds, a massive torpedo shaped craft had penetrated
the tree cover by colliding with it. It sat on the ground,
angled ridiculously on the sloped terrain. Smoke and light
streamed from the back of the craft, which was about forty feet
long, eight feet in diameter, and cigar shaped. The metal
surface was a burnished copper color, with a segmented surface,
reminding Mark of the hull of a zeppelin.
Four silver fins were anchored evenly around the back of the
craft, near the exhaust ports. Darkened windows lined the sides
and front of a gondola shaped cockpit, from the bottom of which
three landing wheels were extended.
Mark screamed with fright, believing that his death was only
seconds away. A thought suddenly hit him, as he lay on the
ground beneath the boiling tumult of clouds, amid the roar and
crackle of the alien assault. This ship had dropped a bomb onto
the soldier. Someone or something wanted him alive.
He saw a commotion of heads and limbs from within the gondola,
and a metal door sprang open on the side facing him, ten yards
away. A humanoid creature emerged just as the bottom of the
hinged door struck the ground. It looked male in appearance,
with a long nose, very pale white skin, and two eyes which were
both too large and widely separated to be those of an earthling.
Long, brown hair hung in tight curls around his face, and a
thin beard streaked with gray covered his chin and upper lip.
He wore clothing which reminded Mark of some 18th century
pirate, complete with a ruffled white collar, red velvet coat,
black ballooned trousers, and leather boots. A captain's hat
was perched atop the mound of curled hair, and a bright red
feather jutted backwards from the left side of the hat.
The creature dashed towards him and kneeled beside him. Large
brown eyes focused on his own. Mark saw concern, human concern.
"Let's go me lad!" the man bellowed in a deep voice.
"An English accent?" Mark said, his eyes wide with wonder.
"Yes, of course! The Queen's English that is! Now let's get a
move on, or we'll all be lectrified by the Bellikans!"
His pale, six fingered hands wrapped around Mark's upper arms,
and he felt himself being lifted to his feet. Mark was able to
stand on his own, so the man bent down and picked up the cube.
"Quickly me lad! Into the Intrepid!"
They both ran for the ship, which looked weather-beaten yet
strangely elegant in the light of the storm. Lights switched on
within the gondola, and Mark could make out another figure, one
with darker hair and beard.
Mark climbed through the small, square doorway. Once inside
the gondola, the other climbed in behind him. He pressed a
button at the side of the entranceway, and the door swung shut
and locked with a loud clank.
Mark turned from the closed door to see that they were inside
what appeared to be an airlock. The walls were bronze in color,
and a locker stood at his right, outlined with rivets and
holding several space suits behind a beveled glass door.
Another door at the rear of the airlock slid open with a
whining noise, and he climbed into the interior of the Intrepid.
Just as his foot touched what seemed to be a teakwood floor,
the ship banked backwards, and Mark felt momentarily weightless.
"That's all right lad!" the man bellowed. We must get out of
here as quickly as possible!"
He saw four large swivel chairs lining both sides of the
gondola interior, each covered with a blue velvet fabric. Next
to each chair, Mark could see ovular portholes, breaking the
continuity of the walls which were covered with a striped
fabric, reminding him somewhat of old-fashioned wallpaper. The
ceiling of the craft was curved and fitted with brass fixtures,
which beamed a soft yellowish light into the cabin.
He seated himself on a chair and found a shoulder harness strap
at the top of the chair, on each side of the headrest. He
instinctively pulled on both buckles at once, and a thick fabric
strip uncoiled from within the headrest. He watched his rescuer
pull the belts over his chest and snap them into two latches at
the front of the seat.
Mark did likewise, and suddenly the ship leaped into the sky.
A distinctive whining noise, as of that given off by a powerful
jet engine, was audible from inside the cabin, but the near
silence around him felt relaxing.
He looked ahead for the first time and saw the pilot, clothed
almost identically to the man who had rescued him, but appearing
slightly younger and smaller in stature.
The control panel looked like brushed gold, covered with
numerous colored lights and switches. A readout screen was
projected in many colors directly in front of the pilot's and
copilot's chairs. His rescuer was sitting next to him, watching
anxiously through his porthole.
Mark saw that the pilot was holding a wooden ship's wheel,
about two feet in diameter. He could turn the wheel to change
direction to starboard or port, and he also pulled back on the
wheel's support lever, causing the ship to increase its ascent
angle.
Looking through his own porthole, he saw the dwindling,
smoldering landscape below, and he felt the heavy winds
buffeting the Intrepid. Within a few seconds, they had entered
the clouds, and the view was gray and moist, with water droplets
whipping into the window.
"Have they caught onto us Smith?"
"Not just yet!" came the gleeful reply of the pilot.
"She'll have to un-shield you know ... to let us in I mean."
"Yes." came the subdued response from the rescuer. He was
still holding the cube tightly in his arms, when he turned to
Mark and smiled.
"You're going to be okay, I hope. Of course, the Bellikans
would've vaporized you in another few seconds, if it weren't for
my accurate aiming." His smile widened, and he laughed, a deep
roar of a laugh, and Mark finally smiled.
The man held out his hand.
"Myer's the name, lad! John Myer!"
Mark took his hand, and they shook hands slowly. He enjoyed
the strong grip of Myer's hand, the only stability in the
firestorm which raged about them.
"What is going on?" Mark asked, his heart beating with renewed
anxiety.
"You, ah, whatever your name is -- "
"Mark" he blurted, embarrassed that he had forgotten to
introduce himself earlier.
"Very good! You, Mark, happened to find what both we and the
Bellikans have been searching for for well over a decade now."
Myer looked to the cube. He ran his hands over its smooth
surface.
"What this cube contains is unique in the entire universe. If
the Bellikans get their slimed claws on it, this galaxy will be
a dangerous place in which to live! But, at least for the
moment, it is safe in out hands. Let's hope it stays that way."
"Who's the pilot?" Mark asked quietly.
"Clyde's the name!" came the reply from up front. "And flyin's
the game!" He laughed at his silly rhyme, and the ship banked
steeply to port.
A buzzing noise, as from an alarm, beamed from the control
panel. Clyde reached down and grabbed a black mouthpiece,
attached to the panel by a coiled cord.
"This is the Intrepid. Do you read me, this is the Intrepid."
A sizzle of static gave way to another voice, this one
decidedly female.
"You are on course and clear for approach in bay 1. Do you
read?"
"Affirmative! When will you drop shields?"
"Three seconds before shield contact. Over."
"Wow! It's gonna' be a close one! Okay, here we come! Over
and out."
He replaced the transmitter on a hook on the control panel.
Mark looked forward through the front windshield of the craft.
The clouds were thinning as they rose above them, and the wind
buffeting had subsided.
"We will explain everything to you once we are far away from
here, Mark."
He looked at Myer.
"Where are we going?"
"To the Corona, our great vessel" he replied with a smile.
"She is the most beautiful ship in all the universe, or so our
good captain says."
Both Smith and Myer laughed.
The clouds were suddenly far below them, and Mark could not
believe what he saw.
A gigantic, spherical vessel hung motionless in the sky before
them. It must have been a quarter mile in diameter. As he
looked more carefully, Mark saw that it was shaped more like a
giant balloon, with the spherical shape at the top giving way to
a fluted projection near the bottom, at the end of which a
gondola shaped cabin was anchored.
"A balloon?" Mark remarked.
"Not quite, my good man" Myer remarked. But it does look like
one."
The shuttle approached to within a hundred feet of the Corona,
and Mark could now make out a thin shell of white light which
engulfed the entire vessel. Suddenly, the light winked out.
"Shields down!" the pilot remarked.
They quickly moved closer, and Mark looked backwards through
his porthole. The thin shell of light reappeared, but now they
were within it. Mark felt some relief that an additional wall
of protection lay between the Intrepid and the invaders'
spacecraft.
As the Intrepid navigated a circular path close to the Corona,
Mark saw that the hull of the craft was an eggshell color and
very smooth. Occasionally he could make out individual plates
which were joined over the surface of the sphere.
Windows peppered the ship's hull, and suddenly, a very large
one, with several faces visible behind it, rolled by his own
window. He looked down and was astounded once again.
A massive projection jutted from what now appeared to be the
front of the Corona. It looked like a nose, long and thin.
"What the hell?"
Myer laughed and slapped the top of the cube.
"As I said, laddy, the most beautiful vessel in all the galaxy!"
Mark now saw a massive slit above and to the side of the nose.
It was a squinting eye, with a long, bizarrely curved eyebrow
above it, formed by textured metal plates, brown in color.
As the Intrepid sank a little lower, Mark saw a giant slice
appear in the sphere.
"Yes, Mark. Yer' not seeing things! It's a mouth all right,
with giant metal cuspids and bicuspids and molars! The Corona's
sensors are located inside!"
"Incredible" Mark sighed. "But why a face, how is it
functional to have a face ... a goddamn nose on the thing ... a
..."
"I know, it surprised us all at first. But, as I said earlier,
everything'll be explained in a while."
The mouth was grinning, a wide hysterical grin, ear to ear,
hundred foot eyelids squinting above it, a two hundred foot nose
jutting out from the middle of its ... face.
A large piece of hull, roughly a hundred feet long and fifty
feet high, was sliding to the side, revealing a brightly lit
hangar deck. The pilot gently turned the ship's wheel, and the
Intrepid glided through the opening, settling seconds later onto
a wooden deck. Mark looked back through the window behind his
seat and saw the great door sliding shut, sealing with a
perceptible vibration. Air was now filling the chamber, as Mark
could hear it hissing about them, swirling winds generated by
pumps behind the walls of the hangar deck.
The pilot stood from his chair. He stretched his arms and
clomped back to Mark's seat. The two shook hands without a word.
"Thank you both for rescuing me" Mark said, now feeling dizzy
from exhaustion.
"You're welcome, lad. That's the least we could do for someone
tryin' to save the universe!"
He felt himself blacking out. He slept for a while,
dreamlessly.
3.
Mark's eyes opened. His mind drifted back from sleep. He was
floating on a raft, rocking amid the waves of a warm sea. As
his perceptions steadied, the waves shrank, and he climbed off
of the raft to stand on the beach.
He jerked awake. First Mark felt the soft bed beneath himself.
The sheets had a satiny texture, and he stretched his legs over
the sheet and under a fluffy blanket. Blood rushed into his
legs, and he groaned with pleasure. He stretched his arms
likewise.
His head lay upon a satin covered pillow, and, as he rolled
onto his side, he felt the pleasant smoothness against his face.
"The cube!" he thought "The soldiers, the ship!" He sat up
with a start and looked about himself. He lay on a very large
bed, square in shape. The bed sat against the wall of what
appeared to be a bedroom. Against the wall opposite him, orange
light danced in a small fireplace. He looked more closely and
saw that burning wood was not the source of light, but instead a
heap of cubic objects, each a couple inches on a side.
A polished, hardwood floor stretched around the bed, and plush,
intricately patterned carpets, reminding Mark somewhat of
expensive Persian rugs, covered patches of the floor.
Four wood posts rose from the corners of the bed, and Mark
looked up to see the thinly veiled canopy above him. The canopy
fabric was a rich shade of red, matching the color of the
blanket which covered him. The four walls surrounding him
glowed in the light from the fireplace, and Mark could see faint
patterns etched into them.
The ceiling was about ten feet high, and it too was etched, a
large flower pattern centered into the middle of the ceiling.
He marveled at the beautiful metal and crystal chandelier which
hung from the center of the flower pattern. Candle flames
danced in circles about the chandelier's edges, stacked in two
tiers, the higher one being smaller in diameter.
A desk sat in a far corner of the room, made of some dark wood
that reminded Mark of mahogany. A chair was pushed neatly
beneath it, made of the same wood and upholstered with a red
cushion. A brass lamp sat on one corner of the desk, and a
viewing screen of some sort was inset into the wall, about a
foot above the rear of the desktop. A quill pen and inkwell and
a stack of white paper lay on the desktop.
In the opposite corner of the room, Mark saw a brown, wood
door, carved with interlocking square patterns, next to which a
rectangular mirror, about three feet wide and seven feet tall,
was anchored to the wall. The wall to his right was empty, save
for a larger brown wood door. No knob was visible on its
surface.
To his left, plush, burgundy colored drapes were buttressed
over an underlying white drape. The heavy outer drapes were
secured to each side of a large window with rope. The window
itself stretched from about three feet off of the floor nearly
to the ceiling, and it was about four feet wide. No light shone
through it.
Mark pulled the blanket to the side and sat on the edge of the
bed. He saw that he was wearing a set of comfortable pajamas,
cottony in texture. They were white, lined with thin, blue
stripes.
He slowly stood up and walked to the window. Pulling the white
drapes to the side, he was confronted with a blank panel, light
brown in color and glass smooth to the touch.
"I must be onboard the Corona" he thought. "What a ship, with
rooms furnished like this."
From the science fiction books and movies he had devoured over
the years, the interiors of space vessels were usually portrayed
as cold and efficiently utilitarian. This room had the look and
feel of a plush guest room in a mansion.
He remembered his injuries. He felt his head, which was now
absent of pain. His knees were covered with pale patches of
skin which had no feeling to his touch.
"It must be some kind of artificial skin, until the underlying
tissue heals properly."
The deep cut on his chest was sealed, and a thin line of the
artificial skin covered what had been an angry gash. The skin
on his face felt a little sensitive, especially where he
remembered scraping a bush. The past injuries were easy to
forget, however, due to his newfound well-being.
Except for the sound of his own breathing, the room was silent.
Mark felt the walls, which seemed to be covered with a
delicately etched plaster. His fingers found a raised, white
rectangle on the wall, just to the right of the window, about
half the size of his hand.
He gingerly pressed it.
"Choose surroundings" a female voice said softly.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Choose viewport visual and audio mode" she elaborated. The
voice sounded each syllable perfectly, and it originated from
the smooth panel behind the drapes.
"A country meadow, midmorning, on a warm spring day" Mark said
with an elaborate gesture of his hands.
Suddenly, light was streaming through the drapes, causing Mark
to shield his eyes. As he adjusted, he pulled the drapes apart.
A beautiful meadow, with tall, green grasses, multicolored
wildflowers, tall trees, some with colored blossoms, and a
brilliant, blue sky filled the view.
"It looks so real" he thought. "This screen must be able to
project any scene that I desire."
Birds soared through the sky, singing melodically as they flew
from tree to tree. Puffs of white cloud moved in the sky, and a
gentle breeze was blowing. The breeze emerged from the screen,
and he could smell the flowers. The leaves rustled in the
breeze.
"This is incredible. Not just sight and sound, but touch and
smell as well!"
A babbling brook ran through the center of the meadow, and a
deer was drinking from it, its front legs spread apart as its
head bobbed up and down at the water's edge.
Mark turned from the window and climbed back into bed. He
dozed for a while, listening to the birds singing in the trees,
feeling the draft which billowed the delicate white drapes.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw the eyes of another
looking into his own.
"Good morning, lad" Myer said quietly. "How are you feelin'?"
Mark propped himself up on his elbows.
"Really good, John."
He blinked his eyes several times and heard the chirping birds
outside the window. The light filling the room was softer now.
Evidently, the simulation program accounted for the motion of
the sun through the sky, and it was now near sunset.
"May I sit down and talk with you for a while?" Myer asked.
"Sure, here I'll get up."
"No, just stay where ya' are. I'll grab your desk chair."
He walked across the room, his boots clomping on the hardwood
floor. Soon he was seated next to the bed. He was no longer
wearing his hat, and his mound of brown hair stuck into the air.
"As you might have guessed, Mark, I am not an Earthling. In
fact, of the 400 or so odd beings onboard the Corona, you are
the only Earthling."
"Where are you from?"
"My home planet is called Athra in my native tongue, which I
abandoned long ago when I became a crew member. My planet is
much like earth, orbiting a yellow star at roughly the same
distance. We call our star Mauvna, which means sun in our
language.
"My people are technically very advanced, probably a thousand
or so years ahead of earth technology. About 500 of our years
ago, which is about 600 earth years ago, a great craft descended
from the sky one day. It contained ambassadors from the great
Council Of Worlds, which is now watchin' the earth and waitin'
for the time when you are ready to join the Council."
Mark was spellbound at what he was hearing. His dreams were
true. There were other civilizations in the universe, and they
were organized on interstellar scales.
"Our world was invited to join the Council, which we did, and
we were slowly ushered into a new age, with superluminal travel
and cures to every disease. Someday, probably in another few
centuries, your world will be invited to join."
"I can't wait for that day" Mark piped in. He suddenly felt
sad when he realized that he would not live to see that glorious
day, when Earth, with all of its peoples and cultures, would be
ushered into the Cosmos.
"When I was young like you" Myer continued "I joined the
Council Space Academy, and in another several years, I found
myself as a crewmember onboard the battlecruiser Akmar."
"There is still war?" Mark asked. He suddenly remembered the
metal clad soldiers, their guns ablaze with light.
"The Galaxy as a whole is at peace, and has been for centuries,
but there are the bad elements. The Bellikans are one of them.
They are a rogue star system, which seeks ultimate power and to
break free from the Council, buildin' themselves an empire that
spans the Galaxy.
"I know it sounds silly, and, of course, there's no hope that
they'll ever be able to do that, at least not as long as we have
the cube."
"Yes, the cube. What is that thing for anyway. And how did it
get where it is?"
"On the planet Blazveld, the center of all the great
universities in the Galaxy, there was a brilliant physicist
named Hoheme Mevak Thirin Kapp. He was the most famous
scientist in the Galaxy. He was workin' on a project to build a
machine that could make antimatter, lots of antimatter. In the
ways of physics, it involved somethin' like causing negative
particles to 'wink' into existence in large numbers. They could
be stored in a vacuum for fuel.
"The Galaxy awaited this new, cheap way of makin' antimatter to
power our vessels. The Bellikans, the nasty devils, decided
that they could make enough antimatter to destroy entire
planets. They're right, of course, but, as you can see, the
rest of us wouldn't allow it."
Myer's mood grew more serious.
"The Bellikans were smart enough to get a spy to work in the
same lab with Kapp. When the machine was perfected, the final
part, the real secret behind the whole process, was built. It
was sealed in Kremlagite, a substance which can withstand almost
any force in the universe."
"Is that the material of which is cube is made?"
"Yes, not even all the nuclear weapons of your world could dent
its surface. Nothin' in our technology can break it either."
"Then how could it be used inside this machine, if it could
never be freed of that indestructible material?"
"It will forever be sealed in the Kremlagite, but this material
can conduct signals from the surface of the cube to the device
inside. The cube only need be inserted into the interior of the
antimatter machine, and it can do its job."
"So, its some kind of processor ... of information?"
"Yer' right! That's really the key. The information stored in
the memory of the processor is the key.
"Anyway, Kapp realized at the last minute that a spy was about
to steal the secret, so he escaped, he and some of his
coworkers, in a small ship that eventually landed on Earth when
they ran out of supplies.
"The nearest thing we can guess is that, after landing, they
destroyed their ship, installed a cloaker in some out-of-the-way
spot, put the cube inside of it, and killed themselves."
Mark thought of the gravity of the scientists' conviction.
They had felt strongly enough about maintaining the security of
the device and the integrity of their work, that they gave their
lives to protect it from evil hands.
"That all happened decades ago. The cube lay completely
cloaked, and, believe me, when its cloaking device was on, no
technology in the Galaxy short of stumbling upon the damn thing
can detect it."
"The cones, the crystals" Mark blurted. "Was that the cloaking
device?"
"Yes. How did you find it?"
"Well, I am an astronomer, and I was getting ready for a night
of observing on the mountain. Next to us, the university is
building a weather research station. They've been digging and
clearing the ground for some time now. I was sitting on the
roof of the observatory when I saw that the bulldozer ... that's
a large earth moving device, had pushed a large boulder to the
side. I went to check it out, since it was shaped like a dome
and looked unusually smooth, when I saw the hole in the ground
that the boulder had covered.
"I climbed inside, and eventually found a chamber underground
holding the cloaking device. The cube was sitting under a
crystal covering. When I tried to lift the cover, it shattered,
and I guess the cloaking device deactivated. The whole place
started to collapse, so I grabbed the cube and just made it out
alive.
"I got outside, and those goddamned Bellikans came down out of
the sky. They destroyed my vehicle and the whole observatory,
and I barely escaped when you rescued me."
He felt near tears, the trauma of the invasion replaying in his
mind.
"I'm sorry you were caught in the middle of all this" Myer
continued. "But, by finding the cube, and then us rescuing you,
you stopped the Bellikans from getting the secret. Ya' see,
Kapp destroyed everything in his lab, flushed the computers of
all the plans and theory, so, this cube itself contains the last
of the secret of the antimatter generator.
"And, in the interest of galactic peace, our mission is to
destroy it, so the secret'll be lost forever."
"But how can you destroy the shielding?"
"We're on our way to Guafa."
"Where is Guafa?"
"You, as an astronomer, know it as Betelgeuse, the great red
supergiant star."
"But what's there, some device which can destroy the cube?"
"The star itself is the device, me lad. We'll drop the cube
into the interior of the star. There it'll stay, another few
thousand years. When Guafa explodes, that energy will destroy
the cube."
"Amazing. So the cube will survive inside the star, in the
nuclear reactions occurring -- "
"Yep." Myer smiled. "But the Bellikans can't get in there to
get it, that's the key. When Guafa blows to pieces, which'll be
a mighty dramatic sight, its secret will be lost."
"But won't it be reinvented somewhere down the road?"
"Sure, someday. But, by then, we're hopin' the Bellikans will
join the Council, along with all the other scoundrels in the
galaxy, so we won't have to worry about thieves tryin' to use
the machine for war."
"So, we ... the Corona is now flying through space towards
Betelgeuse?"
"Yer right, lad. We'll be there in about two earth days."
Mark suddenly felt faint. All those years of dreaming of being
an astronaut, and now he was on a starship that could move
hundreds of light years in a matter of days.
"This is a dream come true for me" Mark said.
"I understand lad. When you get to talk to the captain, he has
an invitation for you, too."
Mark felt a surge of excitement.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't mean to spoil the surprise, but you'll be asked
to join our crew. The captain's a bit odd at times, but he's a
darn good fellow when you really get down to it. It's your
choice. I know you must have parents and friends --"
"Actually, I'm an orphan. And my brother has his own family
now. I'd love to join. But I'm not qualified."
"Sure you are, lad. You have the mind for astronomy, and the
captain's always lookin' to find fresh blood on the ship. And
you, bein' the first earthling onboard, you're valuable to us.
Besides, if you did return home, you could never tell them about
the Council or this ship. We have this policy of not
interferin' in the affairs of a young world like yours."
"I accept." Mark said, extending his hand to Myer. They shook
hands.
"So tell me, John, why does this ship look like it does?"
"As for the face, that'll have to wait. The captain is an
incredibly wealthy man, makin' his huge fortune from
manufacturing interstellar engines and antimatter. In fact, he
employed Kapp. The captain's company, under contract from the
Council, was developing the new antimatter machine. He feels a
special responsibility for all that's happened, so that's why he
brought his personal ship to try to trace along Kapp's trail and
find the cube.
"We've been looking around every planet around every star
within 20 damn light years of the Earth. Of course, the
Bellikans have been tailin' us, waitin' for the moment when we'd
find the cube, so they could steal it and complete their own
antimatter generator. We were out around the orbit of the
planet you call Neptune when our sensors heard the beacon in the
cube."
Mark was amazed at how powerful a transmitter the inconspicuous
cube must contain.
"We got there as fast as we could, and just in the nick of
time, as you yourself know better than anyone.
"The Captain had this ship built to fulfill his every wish.
She's the most luxurious ship in the Galaxy, and she's free to
do whatever the Captain wants, within the bounds of galactic
law, of course. There are crewmates from all over the Galaxy,
ones you'll be afraid of the first time you see them, others who
will look more like humans."
"What happened back on the mountain?"
"You mean, are the Bellikans harming your world?"
"Yeah."
"They left once they knew that the beacon was sending a signal
from orbit, inside the Corona. We have it cloaked again, but
they're close behind us, no doubt, homing in on us. We'll get
to the drop-off point first, fortunately, and they, as well as
us, will watch it disappear forever."
"But won't they attack us?"
"Of course not. If they did, we'd probably win the fight
anyway. This ship is beautiful, but it's heavily armed too,
even though it's dedicated mainly to research. And once the
cube is lost, they'd have no need to destroy our ship and invite
punishment by the Council. So, in the end good triumphs again."
They both laughed.
"Where will we go after Betelgeuse?"
"Who knows, Mark. Wherever the Captain damn well pleases, I
guess.
"Later you can meet him, once you've cleaned up and put on your
new uniform. Just speak out loud to the computer anywhere in
the room to learn whatever you need to know. Then give me a
call when your done, and I'll start showing you around the ship."
Mark was dumbfounded at the fact that he would soon be a crew
member onboard a starship, streaking through the galaxy. He
thought of the Earth. She was safe from the Bellikans, at least.
Myer stood, replaced the chair at the desk, and walked towards
the large brown door on the right wall.
"See ya' soon."
He bowed slightly, and the wood door swung silently inward.
Light streamed into the room from outside. He walked through
the doorway, and it closed.
Mark got out of bed and walked to the window. He pressed the
white button.
"Select alternate mode" the voice said.
"Let me see an exterior view outside of the Corona."
The screen went black. He strained to see stars on the screen.
"Perhaps the lights in the room are too bright" he thought.
Clearing his throat, he addressed the computer.
"Lights off, please."
The candles in the chandelier were suddenly extinguished, and
only the warm glow from the fireplace danced upon the walls.
Mark could now make out faint points of light on the screen. As
his eyes continued to adjust to the darkness, he saw that the
star images were moving from right to left across the screen.
The images remained pointlike as they moved, disappearing off
the left edge of the screen in several seconds.
"So, here I am, deep in space" he thought. How he had dreamed
of this moment, ever since he had looked into the night sky and
felt curious about the stars, over twenty years ago. The
comfort of his room made it difficult for him to realize that he
was free of earth, heading through the vacuum of interstellar
space.
"What is ship's present speed?" he asked.
"Present cruising speed is 75 million miles per second."
His heart jumped into his throat. Not only was he in space,
but he was breaking the laws of the physics that he had studied
for over a decade. He ordered the screen off, and it returned
to being a beige, featureless panel. He stood quietly for a
while, slowly realizing that he was moving through Betelgeuse at
over 500 times the speed of light.
Turning from the window, he ordered the lights on. The candle
flames jumped instantly into existence. He walked to the desk
and sat down on the softly upholstered chair.
"I require a full explanation of the operation of my quarters"
he said.
"Very well" the voice said. "Directly in front of you is a
visual display unit, able to present visual data in many
formats."
"Where is the computer keyboard?" he asked.
"There is no keyboard" the voice replied. "All data accessing
is done via voice input."
"From which computer does this screen system derive its input?"
"The ship's computer" the voice replied.
"I see, so there is only one computer system onboard the
Corona?"
"There is a backup system onboard the Corona and separate
computers on each of the shuttlecraft."
"Wonderful" he thought, "centralized processing."
He remembered his days at college, where the Astronomy
Department alone possessed over thirty separate computers. Of
course, they were all linked, but how elegant a solution this
was, with one, massively powerful system.
"When was the last time this system crashed?" he asked. That
was a valid rationale for having at least several computers --
when one needed repair or maintenance, the others could be used
in the meantime.
"The main shipboard computer system has been in continuous,
error-free operation since the last updating of the controlware,
5.564 earth years ago. Before that, the system had run
continuously since its inception 10.438 earth years ago."
"Wow" Mark said aloud, a smile appearing on his face. He
realized that the computer must be awesome in its power. He
thought of the supercomputers of earth, probably pocket
calculators next to whatever lay at the heart of the Corona.
He remembered Myer's request that he get "cleaned up". He
wondered if the crew had showers in their personal quarters,
and, if they did, how they operated.
"I wish to clean myself. What facilities are available for me?"
"The bathroom in your personal quarters is equipped with a
water shower, bath, sink, vanity, and toilet system. The
bathroom is located behind the door in the far right corner of
the room."
Mark walked to the described location. He saw that the door
was absent of any knob or handle.
"How do I open this door?" he asked.
"As with all doors on the Corona, pass your hand over the
sensor just to the right of the door, one meter above floor
level."
The sensor was not visible on the wall, as his hand passed over
it. The door swung silently inward, and a ceiling light, a
bright white disk inset into the ceiling, blinked on.
The walls of the bathroom were covered with a green, ceramic
tile, the floor with hexagonal white tile. A mirror, about a
square meter in size, was anchored to the wall above the sink.
The accommodations looked very familiar to him, almost
old-fashioned. The sink was ovular and bowl shaped, fashioned
from green marble. The faucet and fixtures were brass, and the
sink sat atop a fluted pillar of marble, anchored securely to
the floor.
To his left, he saw a translucent panel of frosted glass,
rising to within inches of the ceiling. He saw a raised
rectangle on the wall directly in front of the panel, similar to
that next to the window viewport. Pressing the rectangle, he
was startled by the rapid motion of the panel to the right. It
slid into a slit in the wall, exposing a white bathtub, with
similar brass fixtures as the sink, and a shower nozzle jutting
from the tiled wall. The drain appeared to be closed, capped by
a polished, brass disk.
He pressed the control button again, and the panel slid back
into position.
The toilet had no rear reservoir tank to which he was
accustomed, but the bowl and seat cover were familiar. He
lifted the lid and was surprised to see no water in the
interior. The interior of the bowl led to a pipe several inches
in diameter, which continued into darkness beneath the level of
the floor. Another rectangular button, this one in place of the
usual metal flushing lever, probably activated some equivalent
flushing mechanism.
Pressing it, Mark heard the sound of air being sucked into the
pipe, which lasted about ten seconds. Replacing the lid to the
down position, he undressed and enjoyed the luxury of a hot
shower. The soap lying in cake form inside the shower had a
pleasant, though not overpowering, fragrance. When done
showering, he realized he had not found a towel inside the
bathroom.
Upon shutting off the water, however, lamps on the ceiling
flooded him with a soft, yellow light, and he watched in
amazement as the water on his skin quickly evaporated. The
sensation was pleasant, and the ventilation system was
circulating air more rapidly than before, evidently to aid in
the drying process.
Upon exiting the shower, he found a recessed cabinet next to
the vanity mirror, containing what looked like an electric
shaver, and an assortment of containers and bottles.
He asked the computer for an explanation of each, discovering
which contained something similar to deodorant, skin
moisturizers, and antiseptics and artificial skin spray.
At last he had the courage to try the electric shaver. He
found a small button on the side of the rectangular housing of
the device. Pressing it, a pleasant blue light emerged from the
shaving surface. He placed it onto his right cheek and moved it
from ear to chin. He felt no cutting action or abrasion, but
the shaver cleaned two days of stubble to skin level. He
massaged the side of his face and marveled at the closeness of
the shave.
Mark completed his shave and left the bathroom. Inquiring as
to the location of some clothing, he was referred to the closet
door next to the desk. Opening it, he found a collection of
shirts, jackets, and pants, all with a decidedly old-fashioned
appearance, identical to Myer's dress. He found a brown pair of
pants and white shirt that fit him perfectly. Upon donning a
velvet jacket, he was ready to contact Myer.
"Computer" he began "Please put me in communication with John
Myer."
"Which mode of communication do you desire? Audio,
audio-visual, or an emergency person-to-person request?"
"Audio will do for now."
"This mode is traditionally called ringing."
"Very well, then would you please ring Myer for me."
Within seconds, he heard Myer's voice, sounding in person,
unlike the crackling, low fidelity phone systems to which he was
accustomed.
"So, how do you like your quarters, Mark?"
"They're wonderful, thank you. It felt so good to take a hot
shower. Anyway, these clothes fit me perfectly, and I'm ready
for a tour if you are."
"Very good, lad. I'll be there within a half hour. I'll
notify the Captain that whenever he wishes, you're ready to see
him."
Mark suddenly felt nervous.
"Very well, John."
"See you soon, Mark."
His voice disappeared, and Mark walked over to the window.
"Exterior visual, please."
The stars reappeared on the screen, still scrolling rapidly
from right to left. He stood there, marveling at the steely
brightness beyond the Corona's protective interior, across the
light years of space that he was now traversing.
4.
Mark heard a doorbell ring. He looked for a large set of metal
chimes, but none were visible.
"Come in!"
The wood door swung open, and Myer entered.
"The Captain's just squared away all details on the drop-off of
the cube, so he can talk with now for a while. Ready?"
"Sure."
Mark followed Myer out of his quarters and into a corridor, the
door swinging shut automatically behind him. They were now
standing in a hallway, roughly eight feet wide, running in a
curved path in both directions. Mark assumed the curvature was
due to the spherical shape of the Corona.
The walls were a bronze colored metal, with support beams
stretching overhead at twenty foot intervals. The struts were
of a heavy construction, and they joined smoothly with the
ceiling. Indirect lighting from recesses on both edges of the
ceiling sprayed a warm, yellowish glow throughout the corridor.
The floor was covered with teakwood, identical to that in the
Intrepid.
Myer's voice broke the near silence within the corridor.
"We are now on Deck 10. The decks are numbered from top to
bottom, with the bridge being on deck 3. Your computer will
display the necessary diagrams to show you where everything is,
like the dining rooms, recreation areas, laboratories,
engineering, weapons, power systems, sick bay. The list goes on
and on. But you can find out about those things later."
"I'm not afraid to tell you that I'm really nervous about
meeting the Captain, as well as the 'different' aliens you spoke
of. I mean, the two crewmembers I've already met look quite
human."
"That'll be no trouble at all, Mark. Once you meet some of
yer' crewmates, I'm sure you'll like each other."
They continued walking through the corridor. Ahead of them, a
strange looking creature with an oversized head and three arms
walked slowly by.
"That's Rox, an engineer from the Melkor system."
"I've never seen such blue skin before."
"Like the rest of his fellow Melkorians, of course. And those
three hands are mighty handy at adjusting the propulsion
controls when we're in a hurry."
"It's amazing how I feel, wondering if humans were the only
life forms in the universe, until I not only find out that there
are other races, but that I'll be working on a daily basis with
many of them. Do any of the crewmembers not breathe oxygen?
What about their adjustment to gravity that's different from
their home world? And can their vocal systems allow all of them
to speak English?"
"Woe, woe, lad! Not so many questions at once! Yes, every
crewmember does breathe oxygen. The Captain has made that a
prerequisite. Next, their systems have been adjusted slowly to
the gravity on the ship, though none of them had to make a major
change, maybe about twenty percent in either direction. Lastly,
most of the humanoid types speak English. The others have
translator boxes which allow them to understand each other via
English translation."
Myer stopped in front of a recessed, curved doorway, darker in
color than the surrounding walls. Waving his hand over the
access pad on the wall next to the door, it slid open quietly.
They both stepped inside, and the door slid shut.
"Is this some sort of elevator?"
"Indeed, it is. We call them onboard transports, or transport
for short. Bridge please."
Mark felt a small acceleration as the transport obeyed Myer's
vocal command. Within twenty seconds or so, the transport
slowed to a stop, and the door slid open.
"Well, let's meet the Captain."
Mark followed Myer onto the bridge of the Corona.
There are many times in a person's life where one is utterly
amazed at what one sees. Mark felt like pinching himself, to
wake up from what must certainly be some dream, or some
expensive movie set for a science fiction film.
The chamber in which he stood was ovular in shape. The ceiling
was slightly arched, stretching about ten yards over the
bridge's eighty foot length and forty foot width.
Control consoles lined the walls, at which crew members from
various races were seated. A helm station sat near the front of
the bridge, holding a massive wood ship's wheel. Four officers
sat behind it, operating a variety of controls. Behind the
helm, and on a raised section of the deck sat a very wide and
tall swivel chair.
In that chair sat a very strange looking creature, the back of
its nearly spherical head facing them. The skin of the creature
was a pale shade of gray, and loose strands of white hair
dangled over it. Two human ears poked from either side of the
head, perhaps six inches long. Mark realized how large the head
was when he looked at Myer's.
Mark whispered nervously, "Is he the Captain?"
"Indeed, lad."
The Captain was facing the massive, rectangular view screen
which occupied the fore region of the bridge. It was surrounded
by a burnished gold frame, and it appeared to float above the
wooden deck. The control chairs reminded Mark of those in the
Intrepid, covered with blue velvet and equipped with swivels.
The officers were dressed similar to Myer.
The bronze colored control panels glittered with metal knobs,
switches, and colorful indicator lights. Mark saw that most of
the officers were at least humanoid in structure, some appearing
decidedly male, others female. One individual reminded Mark of
a colorful character he knew as a child, with bright yellow
feathers and a beak-like projection for a nose.
The crewmembers, probably several dozen in all, were busily
inspecting monitor screens at their stations, sending vocal
command inputs to the computer, and occasionally consulting with
one another. This produced a background of many soft voices,
above which no other sound was audible.
White light glowed gently from the entire ceiling, providing
even illumination for the bridge.
On the viewscreen, Mark saw images of stars zipping by them,
spraying out radially from the point at the center of the
viewscreen. At the center, a bright orange star was visible,
grossly overshadowing all others in the field of view.
"Betelgeuse" Mark whispered with amazement.
"Guafa" Myer said in a joking tone. "Come now, let's meet the
Captain."
Mark felt his heart in his throat as they stepped down several
tiers of curved, wooden stairs that lined the aft bridge. As
they walked to the side of the plush wood and velvet command
chair, it swung towards them.
Myer stopped at that point, and Mark clumsily followed, now
only several feet from the commander.
"Captain, Sir, this is Mark. Mark, this is the Captain."
Mark suppressed laughter when he beheld the Captain's round
face, virtually identical to the sculptured appearance of the
Corona's hull. His face had the same, pale color as his scalp,
and an eight inch nose jutted from the middle of it all. His
eyes were large and brown, with radically curved eyebrows above
them. The width of the mouth was astonishing, nearly six inches
from one end of his brownish- pink lips to the other.
The Captain leaned forward and produced a large, spidery, gray
hand from beneath folds of fabric.
"Welcome aboard, Mark."
The voice was surprisingly soft and high-pitched, almost
squeaky.
Mark grasped his hand, and they shook firmly, the alien's hand
cool to the touch.
"Thank you, Captain, Sir. I am most honored to join as part of
the crew."
He felt a mental sigh of relief as the ice broke.
"Very good. And I thank you for locating the cube. You have
done all of us on this ship, on your home planet Earth, and the
citizens of the galaxy a great service. A moment later, and the
Bellikans would now be completing their antimatter device."
His broad lips smiled, revealing many wide, flat, and very
white teeth.
"As you can see, we are drawing close to Guafa. Because of the
urgency of this mission, I don't have much time to talk with you
now, but in a couple days I shall."
"Great. I understand the gravity of the situation. The
Bellikans obviously enjoy destroying things. They totally
annihilated our observatory."
"That is a shame. A place of science. Observe their vessel."
He pressed a raised panel on the arm of the command chair, and
the viewscreen displayed a large, triangular ship bristling with
guns and antennae.
"Do not worry. We easily outrun them. And outgun them."
He smiled.
"Well, Captain, I'll show him some other parts of the ship."
"Very good."
Mark was impressed by the genuineness of the attention paid by
the Captain. As they entered the transport, he was sorry to
leave the bridge.
The door slid shut behind them, and he felt a loss in weight as
they dropped to lower levels on the ship.
"Well, what did ya' think, Mark?"
"Incredible! The Captain's appearance took me aback a little
at first, but he seems very nice, though very preoccupied."
"Of course. I would worry if it were any other way. How about
if I show you the Engineering Section next. I'm sure you've
never seen a hyperdrive system before."
"Only futuristic visions of them, on Star Trek."
"What was that?"
"A TV show depicting the future space exploits of earthlings."
"Aye. Well, sometimes fiction is amazingly accurate at
predicting the future, other times not so good. This'll be a
test of Star ... what did you call it?"
"Star Trek."
"Yes, yes of course. Star Trek."
"Has your race monitored our television broadcasts?"
"Yessir. We've listened in on your audio and video signal
broadcasts, and learned many interesting things from it all. I
suppose the Captain views the earth as one of the more
fascinating planets in the Galaxy. Otherwise, why would he have
us speak English, dress like English people of the past, and
have a ship that looks in parts like the inside of an earth
water-going vessel?"
"I've been wondering why that's the case. Why such clothing?
Why that time period on earth?"
"From what I've learned, he studied that period of Earth
history at one time. He found it so rich in fashion and
tradition that he adopted this culture for his future starship,
forsaking his native ways."
"Where is he from?"
The transport door slid open, revealing a short corridor,
splitting off into three passages, the one directly ahead ending
abruptly with a large, red door.
They exited the transport, and they walked towards the red
door, Myer just a step in front to guide them.
"He's from a planet called Ornp. It's an earthlike planet in
terms of climate, but it orbits a cooler star than your earth.
He grew up there happily, inherited his mother's business in
antimatter manufacturing and shipbuilding, and went from there.
Evidently, he enlarged the business so much that, at just about
any blasted space dock you could find, there'd be at least one
ship there that he'd built! And believe me, lad, there's lots
and lots of space docks in the known galaxy."
Myer stopped in front of the red door.
"This is Power and Engineering."
He waved his hand, which was followed by the sound of a
powerful motor lifting the red door. As it disappeared into the
ceiling, a distinct rumbling sound was heard. They passed
through the doorway, only to confront a second red door, which
also raised vertically, after the one behind them had resealed.
"Airlock to Engineering. A hull breach here would be really
bad."
As the inner airlock door opened, the rumbling grew louder, and
Mark saw a gigantic globe suspended in the midst of a spherical
chamber. The globe glowed steadily with intense blue light.
"That central sphere is the main hyperdrive unit. Beneath the
outer wall of the sphere, which is about three feet thick, there
is an inner cooling jacket, which is another six feet thick.
More layers of shielding follow, about another yard's worth, and
then comes the special coils which distort space in the way that
propels us at such high speed. Inside those coils lies the
antimatter reactor."
"Amazing. So the ship is propelled by this sphere, only about
fifteen yards across. Does it harm us to be so close to the
source of this power?"
"No, not in the least! The sphere is suspended in an
antigravity field and by those support struts spaced at 90
degree intervals around the sphere's equator. Fuel is fed into
the reactor through that line leading from the top of the
sphere."
Mark traced his glance to follow Myer's direction.
"The shipboard computers regulate it all with great precision.
This reactor also supplies all power to the rest of the ship,
including the artificial gravity system."
"Where is that located?"
Myer pointed to the bottom of the spherical chamber, which Mark
suddenly realized was about 100 feet in diameter, with them
standing on a circular balcony lining its midsection.
"See that silver contraption surrounded by a thousand big
needles?"
"It looks like a giant, steel porcupine."
"A what?"
"A very temperamental Earth creature."
"Well, anyway, that's the generator which regulates the gravity
field, gettin' its power like everything else from the
antimatter unit."
"Is there backup power?"
"O' course! We have smaller fusion generators, even an
auxiliary miniaturized antimatter reactor. Like I said before,
the Corona is also the most advanced ship the Captain's ever
built, with backup after backup. She's never even been close to
real danger, though we've been through some pretty amazin'
things! Well, hell, lad, this is pretty amazin' now, isn't it?
Carrying the key to galactic destruction in our ship, to drop
into a giant star to destroy it forever!"
"While being chased by the Bellikans all the while" Mark piped
in.
"Yes, indeed. But, anyway, our chief Engineer is that
Melkorian over there."
He pointed to the opposite side of the hub, where a three armed
creature, similar to the one he had seen earlier, was busily
adjusting controls at a massive, blinking console, filled with
switches and readout screens. At least a dozen other workers
were visible, running tests at control panels scattered at
various levels throughout the spherical chamber, on metal
catwalks accessible from the main hub ring by stairways and
elevators on the sphere's perimeter.
"Well, is this like ... Star Trek?"
"Not really. But their ship did use antimatter for propulsion."
"It's the ultimate power source, lad. So clean, and all of it
gets used up. Well, I'll show you the recreation areas next."
Myer turned around, and Mark glanced one last time at the
massive power generator which rumbled continuously before him.
As the transport carried them upward again to the ship's upper
floors, Myer noticed that Mark was strangely quiet.
"All of this is so astounding. I just want to make sure that
this isn't all a dream. I remember having dreams of flying,
ones so real and wonderful that I never wanted them to end ...
but they did. Tell me this is no dream."
Myer saw the look of wonder in his eyes, that of a child
beholding the sea for the first time, or seeing a bicycle with a
red ribbon around the handlebars on Christmas morning, and
hoping against hope that it was real.
"I can assure ya', this is no dream. As long as I've been
alive and can remember, I longed to be amongst the stars,
exploring the unknown, seeing sights that most people on my home
world can just fancy about or see on televideo. I understand,
too, that all this is so new to you. I grew up in a place where
this kind of technology was everywhere. But this is all
centuries ahead of present day Earth."
Mark saw that the transport was stopping at deck two. As they
exited the transport, Mark saw the familiar looking corridors,
now curved more tightly since they stood near the top of the
Corona's spherical hull.
Myer led the way along the corridor, soon stopping at a door
facing the inward wall of the hallway. Mark passed his hand to
the right of the door, and it slid silently open. Immediately,
he heard the sounds of strange birdcalls, the whistle of wind,
and a beam of hot sunlight sliced through the doorway and fell
at his feet.
Stepping inside, Mark saw a brightly lit green sky hanging
above them, an orange sun sinking near a horizon lined
withtrees. They were tall, with yellow and orange leaf canopies
shaped much like eggs. Their branches swayed in a wind that was
warm and fragrant.
The trees extended far to either side, above which puffs of
cloud moved through the emerald sky.
"It's beautiful! How is this done?"
"Much like the window in your quarters. Video and audio
projection by the computer. Except, here the wall is a large
dome over our heads, instead of a flat window. Those relaxing
in here can dial up about any scene from any planet that's
recorded in the computer."
"It looks like we're near sunset with this one."
"Aye, it simulates rotation of the planet, the local sights,
sounds, even smells. Let's go on in and sit down for a minute."
They walked into the large chamber, which was perhaps a hundred
feet across, and he felt something soft beneath his feet.
Looking at his shoes, he saw them half disappear into blades of
translucent, orange grass. Skimming his foot forward and
backward, he saw that his shoe passed through the grass, without
disturbing it.
"This isn't real grass?" he said with a grin.
"No, just an optical projection by the computer. It can put
flowers, trees, rocks, anything that completes the scene bein'
shown on the ceiling. Just remember that the projections are
not solid. If it were to put a tree between you and me, you
would still see me faintly through the trunk."
"So it's probably not very realistic to place a big tree on the
floor of the simulator, since you would look up and see the sun
and sky right through the supposedly solid branches."
"Right. That's why the simulations usually have small shrubs,
flowers, and grass instead, since there's nothin' to see behind
them."
Myer walked to a large wooden bench and sat down, inhaling the
warm breeze. Mark did likewise, and they watched the sun slowly
approach the horizon.
An image of a strange bird, looking half duck and half flying
reptile, flew out over the trees and settled into one of them.
"The Captain has outfitted the ship's interior like a
watergoing vessel, and he dressed the crew like Earthlings, but
he lets the crewmembers have their quarters however they wish,
and the other recreation areas sometimes reflect that as well."
"Are the other rec areas like this projection room?"
"No, there're two theaters, one for live acting and the other
for recorded video, a gymnasium, with swimming and aerofloat,
and another with all sorts of games familiar to the crew."
"Is there a pool table?"
"Billiards, yes, and the Captain's one of the best on the ship.
Do you play?"
"A little. It's just that any such place on earth would
probably have a pool table before anything else."
"A large library is down on the fourth deck, with observation
ports to the stars."
"Are there books in this library?"
"Some books as you know them. Most of everything is in
computer memory, where you can dial it up from a portable
console that you can carry around. The Captain likes to display
various mementos from past adventures there. You'll find it
interestin' to see how other races read. The Spinidas have
cubes that talk to them when they massage them with their many
fingers. And the Orkos place patches on their heads and take in
whole scenes from their books mentally. Kind of like living out
the adventure in your head."
"That's neat. I read a novel in which humans found how to do
this. They called it headwiring."
"Well, the Orkos have been doin' it for centuries. For real."
"So, what's up on the first deck?"
"Aye, I'll show ya' now. It's the club. Complete with a great
view of the stars. Have you seen enough of the dome for now?"
"Is that what you call this?"
"Yeah, it's a lot shorter than sayin' optical/acoustical
projection chamber, or somethin' like that."
"I see. Yes, I'm ready to see the club."
They left the dome quietly. Just before passing through the
door, Mark noticed a thin, red skinned alien, lying on the
floor, half concealed in the holographic grass. It gazed upward
into the sky with small, hole-like eyes.
"This must be what its home world is like" he thought. In
another minute, they were standing on the top deck of the
Corona, in the entranceway to an ornately furnished nightclub.
As they passed inside, Mark glanced up at the massive crystal
chandelier that hung above him. Inside, arched ceilings held
portraits of alien beings, all looking dignified and noble as
they posed, some perhaps yesterday, others centuries ago, by the
yellowed look of some of them.
More chandeliers hung at intervals along four halls which
branched from a central rotunda in the shape of a symmetric
cross. Tables filled the halls and rotunda, and a multi-limbed
alien sat at the center, strumming some kind of harp, from which
emerged a soft music reminding Mark of a lyre and a harpsichord
at the same time.
The club was filled with the dull sound of many alien voices
melding and interacting as they relaxed beneath the crystal
rotunda roof, beyond which stars moved by them.
"Is that ceiling really a window, or another viewscreen?"
"Oh, a projection from exterior cameras. It's too dangerous to
have such a large porthole directly into space. We learned that
long ago, when small micrometeors caused a handful of disasters."
About forty aliens were seated at tables throughout the
nightclub, now filled to about a fifth of capacity. The floor
was hardwood, but of a lighter grain than the teakwood on the
bridge. Brilliantly colored rugs covered portions of the floor,
and candles sat at the centers of the tables.
Behind a glowing bar of white and blue glass, an interesting
looking bartender sat, his many pink tentacles juggling several
glasses and mixers at once.
"What would you like?"
"Actually, I'm pretty hungry right now. How about a big thick
hamburger and an icy mug of beer?"
"That it'll be."
Mark looked shocked.
"We know of Earth customs. The meat you eat will be synthetic
protein, not from some animal that walks the earth, but it'll
taste the same and be better for you at the same time."
Mark sat down at a table and looked about at the paintings on
the rotunda wall. The faces, though strange and occasionally
sinister, looked noble. Mark felt he was beginning to accept
the presence of so many outworlders. Actually, he realized that
he was an outworlder. He had the luxury, however, of having the
furnishings of the Corona resemble those of his home world. He
was the only crewmember so honored.
Just as he finished looking at the paintings, a humanoid alien
was standing next to him, placing a large plate before him, on
which a giant hamburger steamed with delicious aroma. A mug of
beer went down beside it. Mark, without a word to Myer or the
waiter, began to eat.
"This is delicious. One of the best I ever had."
Myer laughed as he sipped on a tall, steaming mug of something
that smelled like coffee.
Taking a long draught of beer, he felt it cool his throat.
"A good lager, too."
He took another gulp of the beer, savoring the tastes he had
known on Earth. He knew that he would always have such tastes
with him, to remind him of his home.
Myer drank his brew also, watching stars move rapidly by the
crystal dome. His mind was wandering on some strange far off
world, beyond the Corona.
After Mark had finished eating, Myer polished off his drink and
leaned back in his chair, stretching.
"Well, tomorrow your instruction will begin."
"What kind of instruction?"
"Knowledge of the ship, all her capabilities, what your duties
will be in the future. Also, you'll get a good bit o' history
on the rest of the civilizations and races in our Galaxy. You
have a lot'a catchin' up to do, lad!"
Mark realized how little he knew about the world in which he
now found himself. There were thousands of worlds out there,
each with its own history, customs, cultures. To become a
cosmic citizen, he realized he would have to learn their ways.
Then there was the ship, so advanced he had only seen such
things in science fiction movies. But he was aboard a real one,
about to become a functional part of the crew.
"How will I be trained?"
"Due to the fact that the crew works in shifts, there's always
crewmates who would like to instruct you and show you around.
So, I'd say your training about our technology and the ship will
be done face to face with other crewmembers. In terms of
learning galactic history, the computer will be your tutor."
"How long will the training last?"
"The history goes on practically forever, a couple hours a day.
The ship training is the tough part, where you really just
watch how things are done throughout the ship for a while, then
you start hands on training. I'd say in about six months,
you'll be asked to make a decision on where you would most like
to serve. Then, the Captain and his officers'll take your
decision and compare it with where they think you'd best be.
When the final decision is made, you start working at that
position, learning the full-blown complexities of the job."
"A lot of work."
"Sure it is. But bein' part of the crew of the Corona isn't an
easy thing. Many of the recruits can't master any of the
systems, and so we send them back on shuttles to their home
worlds."
A pit formed in Mark's stomach.
"I hope I can make it..."
"You'll have no problem. I can tell yer' not afraid of work,
so things will go just fine."
As they stood up and Mark slid his chair beneath the table, he
looked to the rotunda dome, watching the nearby stars moving by
the viewport, the more distant ones appearing steady and
unflinching in the black depths.
On their way to the turbolift, Mark watched the bartender for a
moment, marveling at the adroitness of his many pink, suckered
arms.
"I have some work to get done in navigation. I'm going to help
guide a probe which will hold the cube as it falls into Guafa.
It's a very complex matter, since we want to have thrust control
well into the photosphere of the star, makin' damn sure the
Bellikans can't grab it away from us at the last minute.
