The Sleeper of the Ages

by Hans Kneifel

The multi-colored mosaic of vidscreens glowed with blocks of data, orbital elements and planets and moons projected as spheres, showing what awaited those aboard the Ship. Star Seeker Atubur Nutai had known for a long time that the colossal undertaking was inexorably nearing its end. Going into orbit and making a stopover, was unavoidable. If it was possible to guide the OVIR safely into an orbit, he and his one thousand Sworn Defenders could feel happy and thank the Keeper on their knees.

  The command center of the LEMCHA OVIR and Nutai's residential cabin, along with a ring-shaped supply and survival module, were in a large, rotating, magnetically isolated cylinder. Its forward end was a transparent hemisphere ten meters in diameter. With its external blinds open, the view through the dome showed the same image as the battery of screens, but in completely different colors and forms. A weak protective field was formed over the dome using the neutrino-capture nets of the paired-particle annihilator, preventing cosmic particles and micrometeorites from penetrating; it was the only such screen on the Ship.

  The requirements of rotation and gravity allowed the area of Ship Quadrant North-White to be safely entered or exited only every 49 seconds. The command section's cylindrical steel body rotated once in that time period in a direction opposite that of the ark. "Down" always stayed "down." All communication channels operated on the basis of radio waves, infra-red, and positronic technology; power was supplied by a slip-ring system. Oxygen-rich air, produced by oasis plants, came into the cabin from thousands of tiny jets.

  "Can the red shift be neutralized?"

  "I am working on it," the Network stated half audibly. "In three hours I will be provided with sufficient information."

  Atubur Nutai listened and pointed to the pictograms. He lay relaxed in the commander's contour couch and enjoyed the silence and the Sarder fluid that nourished him intravenously. The serum was pumped through thin tubes into his circulatory system, prickling his cells, stimulating his brain, and filling him with exhilaration as his heart beat more strongly. His last Medrovir treatment lay too many years in the past.

  There was no relaxation yet, no time for Chibis-Nydele: decisions critical for survival had to be made. For some minutes, Atubur Nutai stared at the bright, blue-violet shining star that lay about two light-months ahead. The red shift had colored all the stars in the direction of flight blue-violet by displacing their light into the ultra-violet range. The starlight would be shifted back to the opposite half of the spectrum during deceleration and eventually show the correct colors and values; the Ship's computer supplied the vidscreens with the actual values currently being registered.

  Finally, the gaunt, extremely old Lemurian decided to do something. It was as though he was recovering with difficulty from a spell of paralyzing weakness. He laid his hand on the cell activator's red-pulsing decorative casing, removed the mouth of the fluid supply from the valve attached to one of his arteries, took a deep breath, and waited until a microphone had swung in front of his mouth. His brown, spidery fingers typed on the glimmering surfaces on the armrest. Then, with methodic slowness, he flipped a series of bulky switches into their opposite positions.

  He began to speak. In all the cabins, corridors, and gardens, in every room where air circulated, his deep, hoarse voice could be heard.

  "This is Star Seeker Nutai. I am speaking to the crew of the Ship. To everyone, including the sick ones who can still understand me. The Council met a few hours ago. We have agreed that without unanimous and determined action, our united community will cease to exist in a few decades."

  Although the heavy shielding, scarred by the impacts of cosmic particles, slid tortuously slowly away from the propulsion openings, the rotating steel body was shaken by a long, drawn-out cracking and echoing rumble. Every Sleeper was torn out of his dreams, every sick man or woman forgot their nightmares. Atubur Nutai did not need to mention the Gebrest, the illness that had literally decimated the ship's Lemurians. The crew that had initially come on board had numbered 10,000 members; now, only a thousand still lived in the "Star of Hope." Many of them were ill, and of the few children half of them were born deformed; after a short, agonizing life, they died silently, their bodies wasted away.

  "For two generations, only about five-hundred men and women have lived in the LEMCHA OVIR. Our Be'ketren, who possess the stable health and the para-abilities that our tiny protective shields and the neutrino systems need."

  For this reason, the Commander and the Councils, the chosen elders of the previous and current generations, made a far-reaching decision: the four Quadrants were separated from each other with air-tight bulkheads and made independent in terms of energy supply. Entering the sealed-off sections was strictly forbidden. About 250 Lemcharoy-Lemurians lived and worked in each quarter of the ringship.

  Nutai straightened up; a portion of his seatback tipped forward with a slight humming. After taking a deep breath, he continued.

  "The Council has requested that I initiate all procedures that lead to a landing. Before us lies a star system with eleven planets. There our ship will find a temporary resting place, a stable orbit. We all hope that it will be a beneficial stopover in a healthy environment. I have just now commenced the deceleration procedure."

  With an effort, he stood up and smoothed his white suit as though he had to appear well-dressed before the crew. The feather-light material went slack, then adhered to his body. The microphone disengaged itself from its holder and floated in front of his face as he reached for the Huccar machine and selected his drink.

  "Our inertial absorbers will enable a braking maneuver that will take forty-five days," the Star Seeker said. He had the choice between useless, frantic scurrying and carefully measured activity that did not cause any additional damage. This he had learned in his long life. "In order to protect each inhabitant as thoroughly as possible, I ask the commanders and crews of the landing shuttles to prepare the auxiliary craft for departure and to activate all safety systems. We have discussed every detail for years. Each of us knows precisely what is to be done."

  Moreover, the relevant programs were stored in the Network and could be called up locally and individually.

  Hot liquid, fortified with strengthening, sweetening, and mineral-rich ingredients, hissed and bubbled from three nozzles into the large cup. Atubur Nutai swallowed deeply, tensed his muscles, and listened to the silence of the command module. He chose his next words with even greater care.

  "During the long voyage of our starship and because of the mysterious Gebrest, and equally so due to the mutations that have changed us, our capacity for para-abilities has been limited. We will therefore have some difficulties with stabilizing the impact shield, which means we must forego the anti-detection screen for the duration of the approach to our destination. The protective plates in front of the outer hull at the bow will continue to protect us from particles of any size."

  The Naahk's voice resounded through the ship's ten decks, through the great halls and all the cabins, through air-supplied hangars and machinery complexes with variously colored walls, beams, pillars, and decks. Everyone on board would give his words added meaning that had more to do with unconditional faith than explicable facts.

  Nutai felt the molecules in his fortifying drink spreading through his body; a brief and fleeting flow of energy that reached into the smallest cell. He closed his address with a sentence that he was well aware was questionable.

  "After the landing by the shuttles, after a phase of recuperation for us all, we will take off again in our waiting ship. Forget your secret and open fears! I, Naahk Nutai, am taking care of everything. Even if over the course of time a portion of our knowledge has been lost, I assure you that we will be able to remain invisible and undiscovered."

  He moved two fingers in a casual gesture. The microphone switched off and floated back to its original position. Nutai let himself sink heavily back into the seat, feeling exhaustion in all his joints and weakness in all his muscles. He was too old and felt deep within himself
the gnawing of an illness that no one could treat. Not even Medrovir, the wonder-working ovoid that had last opened for him eighteen years before. Perhaps he would survive if he and Chibis-Nydele were taken down to the planet's surface. But the cell activator would not let him die; not before his ship was circling Mentack Nutai in a stable orbit.

  The immortal closed his eyes and breathed heavily. For many long generations he had kept and protected all the secrets and mysteries of the ship. He himself was a living example of its success. But since the Gebrest had spread and begun to kill off the crew, since the Commander and the Councils had realized the hopelessness of the mission, an obstacle had appeared in the ship's path: a mental wall, an insurmountable barrier. This was the point at which continuing the voyage and remaining hidden became meaningless, and even fatal.

  Atubur Nutai had experienced so endlessly much. Too much to remember it all, but enough to know when it was too late. His decision was as firmly set as the goal; events could no longer be stopped.

  The time until then would be filled with terror. At least for him. He was familiar with almost every form of terror. He opened his eyes and stared at the stars, shining in their false colors.

  " ... and undiscovered!" The echo of the voice was lost in the metallic depths of the rectangular oasis beneath the turned-off sunlamps. Fan blades that were twice the length of a man turned slowly. Every leaf on every tree converted carbon dioxide into oxygen. Nocturnal insects, whose nests clung to the massive gray deck support beams, pollenized pale blossoms that had opened aromatically in the light from the artificial moons.

  "So the Immortal has begun the braking maneuver. Naahk Nutai knows that the OVIR needs nothing more than good sunlight, pure air, and a long rest. Just like all of us." Kalymel did not trust his own words. His fingertips brushed over Rasturi's shining cheek. The thin chitinous layer felt warm and smooth under the touch, but growing desire could dampen Kalymel's panic for only a few moments; deep within him, he hoped that passion would drive away the fear. "The decision to land was justified."

  "That's long been generally agreed," Rasturi replied, listening to the whirring wingbeats of the Hummers. "You're a shuttle pilot. That means there's work for you to do."

  "I'll begin at daychange by inspecting every last bolt on the OVIR EDANA."

  They lay on the moss among the roots of the low trees. All plants exhaled oxygen; an hour before, the rain-spray had fallen in this part of the hydroponic section. It smelled of damp woods and of the blossoms that shone like the skin of the Kebroid mutants in the half-darkness. Steel walls and the sky of an upper deck enveloped the plants and the Lemurians.

  "Do you think that all the shuttles will be ready?"

  "I'll know for certain in two or three days,."

  Kalymel's and Rasturi's cabins lay in the ship's South-Green quadrant. Almost half the cabins had been unoccupied for a long time and served as storage or additional sleeping rooms. For years, even decades for some, many cabins had been cut off from the air, water, sewage, and information connections. They had been sealed so that the mass of continuously refreshened air was distributed only to the thousand or so people on board.

  Kalymel was maintenance technon, pilot, and Tenoy—his position as a guardian offered hardly any advantages and little recognition. He and his companion were responsible for the precisely adjusted balance of the oasis, as well as for the troughs in which berries, mushrooms, and vegetables grew, and the lawns that covered the floors of the corridors and intersections. There was a secret that only Kalymel knew about and he concealed it, along with his terror, behind his efficiency, which no one questioned. He loved Rasturi, and so he had not confided in her his deep, unabating fear or his difficulties in his search for the truth. Smiling, he looked into her large, moist eyes.

  "You are so beautiful," he whispered. "Here we are in a safe environment. What will the alien planet do to us?"

  "Don't worry about it, dearest." Her voice radiated unconditional faith in him and the safety of the ark. "Everything will be lovelier, freer, and easier."

  "By the Keeper," he murmured. "Let's hope you're right."

  Before beginning their love play, all the gauges, instruments, and indicators had been read and compared with each other, and the readings recorded—everything was the way it should be. As it had been for many generations. Kalymel was proud that literally no one doubted his absolute reliability.

  On a small table, among glass vials, a pitcher, soil samples, plastic cups, and various mushroom cultures, a little flame flickered. A wick of an oil-saturated Jakulent-plant core rose from a bowl filled with brown vegetable fat. Few open flames that burned oxygen were permitted during this cycle, but the indicators on all the oxygen tanks stood at "Full." Pale white humus beetles crawled around near the light. Rasturi reached for a branch and held it high, then with quick movements she removed her clothing. The thin fabric curled around her bare feet.

  Kalymel looked longingly at her slender body. He and Rasturi had had long-term contraceptives implanted three years before because of the risk of bringing a sick or strangely mutated child into this world of metal. Although he knew every centimeter of her skin, he gazed at her with undisguised admiration. His thoughts were quickly distracted and after that they no longer dwelled on his fear of the future.

  The left half of her hairless head consisted of golden brown chitin down to the chin. Thumb-sized scales covered her left shoulder and upper arm; finger and toenails shimmered white, as they also consisted of the same exotic substance. Tiny silver particles sparkled in the skin of her full breasts. Rasturi and Kalymel were healthy mutations, and like many of their kind, they thought of themselves as Positive Muties. They comprised about a third of all the survivors. The probability of bringing negative mutations into the world was frighteningly high.

  Kalymel pulled his trousers down over his knees and took his companion's hand. A muffled noise resounded from the decks above and below the oasis; the covers of the inertial absorbers were opening and moving to the sides.

  "Come, beautiful one," he said. The twitching reflection of the fat-oil flame made the snake-scale skin of his elbows, knees, and chestplate shimmer in several colors. They could have made love in their cabins, but now and then they appreciated romantic variations. Glowing pictures from the History Net appeared in front of their closed eyes. "Let's imagine again that we're making love under the open sky on a beach of yellow sand, in the cool foam of the surf."

  She stretched out next to him and awaited his touch. As they sank into a long, deep kiss and began to caress each other, they dreamed themselves away from their usual surroundings into a world that they knew only from descriptions and pictures. The reality would be stranger—and possibly more beautiful—than their fantasy would allow.

  "Make me happy," Rasturi whispered and held him by his shoulders. Her fingernails ran along the scales of his snake-like skin. "Who knows how much time we have left?"

  Kalymel made an effort to increase Rasturi's pleasure. He was glad that his arousal let him forget his surroundings. A Hummer buzzed over him, a blossom fell silently onto the moss.

  Their bodies melted together. From the brown skin, between the scales and under the chitin, oozed the sweet perspiration of pleasure. The gasping, the passionate groaning, and finally Rasturi's low, sharp cries faded into the twilight of the oasis. Some flower tendrils began to sway as several twittering Hummers suddenly flew up from them. Pollen drizzled down on moist leaves.

  As Kalymel sank back into the moss, he looked from the shimmer of the flame to Rasturi's throat and breasts, then back to the tiny light. For a long moment he thought he was seeing the star around which circled the planet that was Atubur Nutai's destination.

  He leaned against the oxygen moss on the tree trunk. "Many dozens of generations knew and know only the world of the Ship," he said lowly, more to himself than to Rasturi. "That planet and us—we have only breathable air and gravity in common. In the LEMCHA OVIR there is safety."

&nbs
p; Rasturi silently filled the cups with black berrywine. She gave one to Kalymel and looked into his eyes. In her gaze, he read doubt and uncertain fear, the same that he had hid from her during the last hour.

  "Surely you won't land your shuttle on an unsafe planet, Kalymel."

  "When we leave our steel cocoon for the first time ... No matter how vivid they are, no descriptions or pictures can replace the reality. The new home will be unimaginably strange, Rasturi."

  "We will adjust to it, just as our ancestors did when they followed the call of the Legendor into the Ship," she replied hopefully.

  The planet? he thought sleepily. Probably filled with deadly dangers. Spores in the air, germs and bacteria in the ground, poisonous small animals and murderous giant beasts. Natives that will injure and kill us.

  Kalymel's tiredness increased. His thoughts grew ragged. For the Lemcharoys, the feeling of absolute security had not grown any less since the beginning of the voyage. Even so, the protection of a metal cave filled with life was apparently not enough to withstand the dangers that had mounted up over the long years, and it had begun to fail.

  Our dreams are becoming nightmares, Kalymel thought. Within the metal universe of the Ship, composed of familiar routines, secrets, and firmly controlled technology, an alarming fissure had opened up. It would spread during the time between now and the landing.

  After the passion had faded away and he yawningly began to feel the alcohol, he realized: We are afraid even before taking the first step on the planet. Any unknown world will kill many of the Ship's inhabitants.

  The crew members learned their theoretical knowledge of future settlement worlds very early and just as thoroughly as their studies of technology and the care of oxygen plants. At the same time, the inhabitants asked themselves as Kalymel did now: Before this, there had been no announced destination. Was the chosen planet such that Lemurians could settle on it? Or was this an emergency situation that the Naahk had concealed from the Lemcharoys? Perhaps it was still too early and the voyage would actually have to resume? We have more than enough food and oxygen! We know from the Net data that there are worlds without air or with surfaces that resemble the insides of volcanoes. There are others with poisonous, corrosive, or contaminated atmospheres, icebound worlds, and some filled with invisible ghosts that suck alien life dry.