An Atmosphere Of Angels

by H C Turk

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  An Atmosphere Of Angels

  a NOVEL by H. C. Turk

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  ©2012~2017 H. C. Turk

  H. C. Turk at Amazon

  HCTurk.com

  Chapter 1

  The Universe Of His Vision

  A master had painted the world. Seen from low orbit, the island was an artwork: an energetic, irregular shape set against the ocean’s active background of translucent aqua rippled with waves and whitecaps. Within the island’s shape, nature had created a painting. Green foliage in a complexity of fluid strokes complemented the dark, neutral hues of the island’s volcanic edges. In contrast, the island’s northern end—the observers’ goal—displayed painterly smudges of uniquely yellow foliage bordered by an enthralling pink beach, sand stained from red flora in this alien water.

  Staring at the scene, Parno Hadjara could smell the blossoms. Along with the space boat’s remaining complement of five, he floated in the crowded pilot’s cabin, viewing the main holovid: an enlarged, spherical depiction of the planet below. With peripheral vision, Parno saw a more immediate item he found equally compelling: Kathlynn Shumard. Their shoulders touched. Had it not been for the insulating plasfab of their ground suits, Parno would have better felt her body against his. Since the headpieces of their suits were retracted, Parno could sense her fragrance: not an application of perfume, but the scent of a desirable woman.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Kathlynn purred.

  “Though presumably natural, this coloration may be unique to this area of Kapnos 3,” said Vera Pacetti, the chief technolist. She and her husband, Grazio, sat in the control couches. As Grazio would say, he drove the boat.

  “Could it be caused, indirectly, by the ether ore?” asked Stacy Hanshaw.

  Despite her age of sixty, Stacy showed no facial wrinkles, no grey hair, because she lived in twenty-third century America. Along with her husband, Ward—the Project Director—and Parno, Stacy was a financial anthropologist.

  “The initial researchers didn’t have opportunity to examine that hypothesis,” Vera told Stacy.

  “I can’t wait to get my gear down there,” Grazio added, smacking his lips.

  “Testing environmental hypotheses comes later,” Ward Hanshaw stated with a firm smile and firmer voice. “Despite the founding staff’s positive results, we first have to verify that ether ore can be successfully mined on this planet.”

  Tall and mature, Ward always seemed to smile, though the expression rarely indicated amusement. His long jaw showed tight muscles, as though toned by the facial exercise of speech.

  No longer considering Kathlynn, Parno looked to the holovid, seeing profundity, the most decisive indicators and achievements in any system. This system was his life. Stellar Service explorers had discovered the first extraterrestrial planet inhabited by humans while Parno was still in graduate school. In those nineteen succeeding years, Stellar Service had discovered a dozen planets inhabitable by humans, and proven a tenet previously considered only theory: any inhabitable planet will be inhabited. Dozens of planets found capable of supporting only fungus all were populated by fungus. Those twelve planets capable of supporting human life all were populated by humans: aliens, but people. No freakishly semi-humanoids had been discovered. No crustaceans with intelligence. No silicon-based humanoids with crystalline thoracic plates. All of the races discovered on alien worlds would have comfortably fit somewhere on Earth, within this subtropical region or that frigid clime. No society more advanced than those of 13th-century Earth had been found, but Terrans had created magnificent cathedrals during the Middle Ages. On the planet Eikona 7, an equatorial nation of some 500,000 people had constructed an edifice of wood that rivaled Notre Dame Cathedral in grandeur: not a house of worship, but a sculpture expressing their love of nature. The edifice resembled a mountain range whose slopes were covered with hardwood forests. Non-Terran races had their own type of church. After all, aliens were only human.

  Kapnos 3 was Parno’s second voyage as a Stellar Service Offworld Emissary. The previous year, he had been the junior member of a six-person team of financial anthropologists sent to Alpha Floga. Parno had helped culminate an agreement wherein art would be exchanged between the two planets. The Flogans received original watercolors from Earth’s secondary Fauves in exchange for Flogan glass paintings: artworks of melted glass, the size of a human palm, whose layers were self-magnifying, revealing a subtle depth to the depicted monochrome landscapes not even duplicable with Terran holovids. On Earth, Flogan glass paintings sold for a fortune. Stellar Service emissaries with ENU supervisors remained on the planet, bartering for art in a culture whose populace had yet to discover electricity. On Kapnos 3, Parno had a more important job. If Stellar Service did not agree to a contract with the Kapnosans, Terran space travel would end.

  Ether ore was the nucleonic fuel for the space boats’ Actal Manifestic drive that allowed traversals between galaxies by crossing the ether lanes. This nonsynthesizable isotope had been found on only two planets: Earth and Kapnos 3. Volcanic regions were the only source, but nearly all of Hawaii’s deposits had been mined. Only small quantities of ether ore were required for interstellar journeys. Space techs had a saying: “One pound per parsec.” If Parno could forge an alliance with the Kapnosans, his career success would be assured. The problem was that the local Kapnosans had no interest in Earthers, their technols, their art, their existence.

  Looking at the holovid as though looking toward his future, Parno heard a voice.

  “Hey, Parno, are you awake?”

  He found himself staring at Kathlynn’s ear. In the two weeks of their voyage, Parno and Kathlynn had never been nearer.

  “I’m lying on that beach now,” Parno crooned, looking closely to the holovid. “Cream-colored fronds shade me as red water laps at my feet.”

  “Yeah, and Kathlynn kicks pink sand in your face,” said Grazio.

  Everyone laughed but Kathlynn. She only smirked, not in way of disagreement.

  They all looked alike. Because the indigenes of Kapnos 3 had reddish-brown skin and straight black hair, so did the Earth personnel. Because the Kapnosan men all wore beards, the male Earth researchers had stopped shaving for this voyage. Because the Kapnosan women had substantial bosoms, so did the three female staff members.

  Parno thought of his wife. Petite, slim, perfectly feminine in her elegance. In comparison, Kathlynn seemed somewhat unbalanced. But Parno’s wife was now an ex. Parno pressed nearer to Kathlynn. Being in free fall, she floated away. Unbalanced but beautiful.

  “Vera, I have to ask of our progress,” Ward said.

  “I dropped a multi-senser down parallel to gravity,” Vera responded. “It has achieved the exact locale of the founding staff’s settlement.”

  “Yeah, they had the right place the first time,” Grazio added. “We ain’t gonna improve it.”

  The holovid displayed a magnified view. Within this revealing sphere, Parno saw early-morning light rays rake across the shallow slopes of a dormant volcano. Upon seeing the solidified mudflow with volcanic debris—lahar—normally solemn Vera spoke in a tone that seemed sex-char
ged.

  “That’s where the ore is.”

  “When can we separate the hold and land?” Stacy wondered.

  “As soon as Ward accepts our verification of all-is-well,” Vera replied.

  “Excellent!” Ward declared. “I then formally affirm that I, Ward Hanshaw, director of the Stellar Service Kapnos Offworld Project, accept your finding of safe and secure planetary destination.”

  The boat’s intrinsic communications system heard, saw, and recorded all.

  “Yeah, whatever you say,” Grazio replied. “You’re the semi-boss,” he concluded, and glimpsed Kathlynn.

  Parno saw her jaws clench. An Earth Nations United supervisor would show no greater perturbation.

  “Very well, everybody hates me because I’m ENU,” Kathlynn said, her mild smile unaffected, nearly bashful. “But I am not your opposition. I have genuine regard for Stellar Service’s achievements in space. I only hope that you succeed without harming the culture of these lovely people.”

  Looking closely to Kathlynn, Parno spoke personally.

  “Please don’t ruin my career,” he told her sincerely.

  In that moment, their eyes met. Kathlynn blinked first.

  “Try that puppy dog look on the indigenes,” she said, and turned away. “It might work if you don’t frighten them off with that grey in your beard.”

  Parno smiled, blushing, as Kathlynn tried not to smile.

  “Parno’s way with indigenes was quite successful on Floga,” Ward told the ENU supervisor, his smile tough now. “That’s why he’s working with me here.”

  “Puppy or guard dog, I’ll do whatever it takes to get this contract,” Parno said, not directly to Kathlynn, “as long as the indigenes’ subtle and unique culture is not disrupted. ‘Work’ is a good idea, Ward. I’m ready when the super is.”

  Ward pushed off from the pack first. Returning to the personnel’s plasmetal hold, he and his peers prepared to descend. Crisp breezes beckoned from a painterly planet. A new world awaited their descent. Though the Earthers intended to devote themselves to pleasing the indigenes, they knew the voodoo natives would ignore the alien invaders, flies on the Kapnosans’ living artwork to be blown away by the first hot breeze.

  * * *

  The space boat consisted of two prime elements: matter hold and drive unit. The latter comprised drive bay and control room, situated at opposite ends of the boat, connected by a supportive exoskeleton. This atommetal grid work also grasped the central, removable matter hold like a great hand clutching a box. Achieving a planet’s surface solely by manipulating air, the matter hold contained cargo bay and personnel quarters. Orbit would be achieved by discharging the electrelogical force store in the matter hold’s foundation.

  After instructing the technolists to prepare the boat for landing, Ward entered the cargo bay with Parno, stopping at a plas crate large enough to hold a wheel car. Grasping a corner of the stiff plas, floating Ward tried to appear formal by straightening, as though he stood.

  “Parno, with this new mining gear, we can remove all of the ether ore in a few days. We’ll leave the gear behind, and take the ore. While Vera and Grazio are digging, we anthropologists have to put on a show for ENU. That means you have to keep Shumard busy.”

  “Ward, since I’ll be keeping her busy while doing my job, what if I succeed? If I conclude a deal with the natives, we can do our mining legally.”

  “Parno, don’t tell me how great you are,” Ward countered. “You and I both know that Floga was no major success. The indigenes take three paintings from us and give one back.”

  “I’m sorry you feel—”

  “Hadjara,” Ward interrupted, “you weren’t in line for this assignment. But Personal Information tells us that you have the position, background, and personality to sway Shumard. She likes a man who can talk and think at the same time. Your facetious brand of charisma doesn’t impress me, but Shumard—”

  “Ward, I—”

  “I’ll do the talking and thinking here, Parno. You save it for Shumard. I’m not referring to the ENU supervisor, but to Kathlynn the woman.”

  Ward then pulled himself past Parno, his smile a painting, abstract and severe.

  Parno wondered if his résumé would impress ENU.

  Exiting the cargo bay, the men passed Grazio, who palmed the loo door shut and locked the lid on the technol infirmary, a tiny hospital that resembled a coffin. After sealing the food hopper, Grazio floated through the space room, that open area in the hold between opposing rows of personal cubicles.

  “Hey, the supervisor fem gets tied up first.”

  Grazio rubbed his palms together while floating in the doorway to Kathlynn’s cubicle. Though the hold would retain air pressure during landing, safety regulations required all personnel to bubble up, extending their ground suits’ plasclear headpieces. The suits were virtually transparent, visible as only a gleam against the wearer’s coveralls and skin, and suitable for outer space.

  “Grazio,” she asked, “why are the personnel so few on such an important project? On Beta Apotychia, we had six anthropologists and two supervisors.”

  “Hey, super Shumard, Stellar Service sent the best personnel in space for this trip. ENU sent the superest supervisor, so that’s all we need.”

  “Grazio, tell me the truth,” she asked gravely, “please.”

  “Hey, Kathlynn, the truth is that the gear for seeking deep ore deposits is heavy stuff. Either that or Parno’s trinkets mass so much the boat couldn’t move any more bodies.”

  “You can be amusing,” Kathlynn said with a smile scarcely more apparent than her ground suit, “but you can also be silly.”

  Despite having the face of a brawler, Grazio tried to feign an innocent expression while watching Kathlynn recline on her sleep-and-transport cot.

  “Hey, superfem, don’t ruin my career,” he pleaded, “I’m only a tech.”

  Viewing the data display in his bubble, Grazio read a secure adhesion between Kathlynn’s suit and cot.

  “Supervisor Shumard’s security for orbit dropping affirmed,” he stated officially. Grazio then waved bye-bye to Kathlynn, and palmed her door closed.

  He continued from cube to cube, speaking loudly to the personnel.

  “All right, you pack of planetary explorer types. I see everyone is glued like good boys and girls to their self-adhering space-blasting beddies.”

  Parno lay supine, not noticing the ground suit’s back pad. He winked at Grazio as the pilot peered in, grinned, then pulled himself past. Being claustrophobic, Parno did not like wearing a ground suit, though the feel against his skin suggested no more substance than silk: smooth, never clammy. Like satin sheets. Swaddled in satin sheets on his own little beddie. For the two weeks required to transport the space boat across the ether lanes through second space, reentering normal duration space near the third planet of the Kapnos system, this cube had been Parno’s home. Being married pairs, the Hanshaws and Pacettis had double-sized cube rooms: space suites, Parno thought. His own cube contained one narrow plasfoam bed with floral-pattern plasweave sheets and counterpane. One upright plaswood chair and matching desk whose writing surface was expansive enough to hold one genuine plaspaper journal, one official Stellar Service space-proof log. The data integrator display was built into the walls. One plaswood armoire large enough to hold the absolute minimum of personal belongings. In space, mass means money.

  A serious voice then spoke in his bubble.

  “All ground suits affirmed up full function,” said Vera.

  She and her husband now occupied the matter hold aux control console situated within their cube.

  “Internal,” Parno said, instructing the communication system that he would not be speaking to the personnel. “Vid on,” he added, and a sphere appeared at his feet. “Size one meter,” he instructed, and the holovid instantly expanded. “View descent.”

  A world floated at his feet. Weather and water and green continents, that artistic island their goal
. Parno felt a jostle, as though the boat had coughed.

  “Descent protocol engaged,” spoke Vera’s serious voice. But her husband added:

  “Yeah, hold on to your hats, our shack is blasting down to meet the ales!”

  After separating from the drive unit, the matter hold dropped from orbit utilizing a “fluid slip” technol not fully grasped by financial anthropologists. Imparting only a mild sensation of wavering to the occupants, the plas box actively encouraged the atmosphere to slip around its blunt shape with a minimum of friction.

  Parno viewed creation. At the edge of the holovid extended an infinity of distance so absolute that all the boundless starlight turned black. Space, as experienced by Parno, was not a lack of illumination, but an endless extension of light. The planet intervened via gases, that black brilliance of forever commingling with the soft air of the stratosphere. Here was a mating that only a deity could envision. Upon meeting the planet’s air, space changed from dimensionless black to a curved canopy of pleasant haze, a soft skin enveloping the world below. Parno viewed a world of weather, thin clouds of pure white, dense clouds of changing grey above continents whose varied shapes suggested creative composition, not economy in parsing out the splitting of tectonic plates. In the form of topography, the greater world stretched upward through the wet expanse of connected seas. Ocean, the prime element of the planet’s surface, conjoined continents with a gleam that might have been all of stretched space manifested in tangible form, a continuous curve beginning and ending with the observing alien who fell, floating, above the world, the universe of his vision.

  “Descent progress verified,” Vera said to the personnel, and her husband added:

  “Yeah, we’re falling like a feather. Anyone get space sick, throw up in your ground suit, not my boat. Of course, you throw up in an air sack, you have to breathe it. Descent progress verified along zip angular entry.”

  Unlike an aerodynamic craft, which would progress in a glide, the matter hold fell straight down, but slowly. Fell straight down to a painting, an island substrate with appliqués of greenish brown trees and lower, less textured, foliage. At the composition’s upper margin, a blend of red had been added to the watercolor wash. This warm tint faded to grey where merging with the surrounding water, a neutral hue produced by blending primaries across the color wheel. On the dry side, the red faded to pink upon staining the white sand, smudged by nature’s tidal gestures. Lower in this composition, an irregular circle of smooth greys offered contrast to a variegated yellow segment. Parno knew that observers standing on the planet would not see a circle, but a volcano’s cone. Cold now, but hot enough in previous eras to create an island.