by Thadd Evans
“They didn’t acknowledge mine either.”
“Transmit at three hundred, four hundred and four hundred, and fifty megahertz and everything in between.”
“I did that as well. Unfortunately, they weren’t interested.
“Did you read Yeliv’s PHT report?” I paused, listening. Normally, PHT, photonic-titanium conduits, functioned at thirty degrees below zero Fahrenheit. However, these sensors were four years old. Their switches might have cracked.
“Yes. Because our ACD uses microwaves, something he isn’t totally familiar with, he needs to study it more.”
“When is he going to be finished?”
“In six days. He would like to do it faster. The problem is that he left most of his scanners, the best diagnostic equipment, on P L Five, so he has to improvise.”
Wondering what Yar was doing, I glanced over my shoulder.
Not far away, she aimed her tablet at the sky.
“Yar, did you send them a message?”
“No. They were gone before I could do that.”
“Did you hear the Dwate?”
“No.”
Within a few hours, after we inched our way around a steep bend, I raised my tablet. The screen appeared. Near the bottom of it, new results enlarged. Insufficient data. Cannot locate trail that is longer than eight feet.
I scowled. Normally, the tablet searched for trails, continuous flat surfaces that were at least four inches across, six foot long, then indicated their actual size.
I pointed the tablet up. On screen, text emerged from the background. Compil.t.map.” New results came into view. Insufficient data, cannot locate continuous plain.
I announced, “Adj.onehour.audio,” adjusting the device. It would probe the cliff when necessary.
I climbed.
Chapter Sixteen
As I continued on, scaling the nearly vertical route, a baritone male voice, the results of a recent scan, came out of my tablet. The rest of the trail is nineteen point fifty-one miles long.
A snowdrift on the right, one piled nearly ten meters high, cast shade on our path. The voice provided more information. The rest of the trail is seventeen point fifty-three miles long.
This contradiction bothered me. Hopefully, sometime today, MMAK would provide the right answer. But there was a problem. Any route consisted of flat, curved, smooth and pitted surfaces, small ones that were connected to adjacent areas, a vast amount of information. Arranging all of them correctly was difficult because the software could only sort a limited number of combinations.
I flexed my cold fingers, trying to warm them up. All over my gloves, ice cracked and fell off.
The rest of the trail is twenty-one point twenty-seven miles long.
These poor results indicated that there were many other issues to deal with. Perhaps the tablet’s optical interferometric telescope had scanned cliffs, vertical plains, not horizontal ones, and the software had created a trail map at a ninety-degree angle. I wasn’t sure. My stomach muscles tightened, a nervous reaction.
The rest…is… It was replaced by white noise. MMAK either had a virus or it was poorly programmed.
I spoke into my HMR, “Greg, did you see the results of MMAK’s recent scan?”
“Yes. More problems. I don’t know how to fix them yet.”
I pressed a button. “Yeliv, do you know anything about MMAK?”
“No.”
I had spoken to Yar about it recently, but she wasn’t acquainted with the application.
How many miles would we have to hike to reach Solo? The answer would have to come later. It might be available after we reached a higher elevation.
We kept going.
After crawling through hip deep snow and going by a cliff, the trail leveled off, then curved left. To my right, far away, hidden by thick mist, I heard the faint sound of a Series Five starship. Such a vessel, one that could fly between planets, was coming through the Bae Dy. Much to my surprise, the noise faded as the Series Five flew away, never slowing down.
I looked up the trail. Thirty feet beyond a crevice, the narrow trail, barely wide enough to stand on, curved left. As my eyes watered faster because of the cold, I continued on. Needing to check my progress, I aimed my tablet straight ahead.
Eighty yards up the trail, on the opposite side of a 60-foot diameter open space, one bordered by massive cliffs, I noticed a four thousand foot high cave, a geological formation that was covered by a semi-transparent wall of ice. Several high-rises had been erected within the cave
I spoke into the HMR, telling everyone else about these structures.
Chapter Seventeen
I admired the buildings, hoping to satiate my curiosity. Just about every floor was connected to another one by thousands of walkways or stairs. Near the top of a skyscraper, a building resembling a cylinder, a door opened. An air scooter flew out and went inside a nearby tower. This unfamiliar architecture didn’t resemble Glemal homes, Aito hospitals, Etite airports or Ulthe sky ports.
Behind me, the sound of footsteps grew louder, I glanced over my shoulder, wondering who was approaching. Yar stopped next to me.
“Eaarting architecture.” She pointed at the buildings.
I raised my eyebrows, impressed. “You’re very knowledgeable. How did you know?”
“I studied Eaarting men, women and architecture for years. Walkways, ramps and stairs connect every dome, tower, and apartment.
I nodded. “My HMR can’t detect any cardiovascular signs. It’s hard to tell if Eaarting men, women or children live here. I just spotted two men, but they might be holograms.”
“My tablet’s diagnostic field is empty. Its probes haven’t picked up anyone’s pulse.”
Yar’s English, a parlance mixed with harmonious clicks, had improved dramatically.
Near the corner of my screen, text and numbers emerged from the background. SRG14.
I peered at Yar. “According to this update, the high-rises are surrounded by a firewall. Someone doesn’t want us to scan these Eaarting men, women or the buildings. For all I know, they think we’re going to shoot them with lasers.”
“They’re using SRG Fourteen and SRG Sixteen.”
Both software versions, barriers that Swa Ryb Gi, an Aito engineer, had designed, were created out of phase visible light and obliterated any scans, including ours.
“They won’t respond to my SP messages.” I glanced to the right, hoping to find someone who would talk to us.
Next to an illuminated window, an air motorcycle flew over a walkway and went behind a pyramid. Near the middle of the pyramid, inside a window, a light shut off. Beneath the window, several humanoid silhouettes, beings with large oval ears and narrow foreheads, began climbing stairs.
“Can they see us?” Yar pointed at the silhouettes.
“I don’t think so.”
Behind me, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. I peeked over my shoulder as everyone else peered at the buildings.
Greg rubbed his hands together, trying to warm up. “Jason, Yar, have any of these entities responded to your SP messages?”
Both of us said no.
Greg paused. “Yeliv, Tia, Paley, has anyone returned your messages?”
Tia shook her head. “Most of my screen is still blank. According to this text message, my tablet’s messages can’t penetrate the firewall. One of the inhabitants must be using scrambling software.”
Yeliv squinted as he studied the barrier. “I agree with Tia. Somebody keeps scrambling our messages. They don’t want to communicate with us.”
Paley raised two fingers, an Aito gesture, emphasizing the importance of his response. “As far as I can tell, these Eaarting are so suspicious they won’t examine our scans.”
I paused, frustrated. “They won’t open any doors. It’s impossible to enter those buildings. Let’s head for Solo.”
Everyone else nodded.
Chapter Eighteen
A few yards beyond frozen weeds, a couple
of six-foot tall ghostly Aito men appeared. Were they roll-over-holograms, projected from a location inside the high-rises or surrounding cliffs? I wasn’t sure.
On my screen, text flashed. Sr. This short response, meaningless information, receded into the background. Perhaps SRG14 or 16 was canceling my probes.
Sr… popped up and withdrew into the background. My tablet wouldn’t archive the ghostly men’s speech.
I glanced to the right, hoping to find aliens that could be analyzed.
Near the opposite side of an adjacent patch of dirt, a few ghostly Aito women, all of them just under six-foot tall, spread their fingers, offering cryptic gestures.
A female in a partly transparent platinum spacesuit, a stranger who was facing the gorge, became more opaque. Much to my surprise, she pivoted, and stared in my direction. Soon her legs, torso and arms vanished while her head started fading. She blinked, a vague gesture. But this stranger’s eyes were so transparent that I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me.
Along the edge of my screen, text brightened. Smmm. My tablet couldn’t figure out if a firewall was being used.
More information came into view. SRG
“Yar, did you see those Aito men and women?” I took a step toward her.
“No.”
Not far beyond a rock, a six-foot tall ghostly Etite man with a champagne colored face emerged from the landscape, coming together like broken fragments. He began staring at me. Gradually, his legs, torso, and one side of his head dissipated. He said, “Ror…”
A translation came out of my earplugs. Hello…
Near the edge of my screen, text scrolled. Diastolic… This Etite man didn’t have any blood pressure readings. My tablet was either being blocked by a firewall or this entity was just a hologram.
I clenched my fist, irritated. “Yar, can you see that Etite man?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Why did he appear next to me, not someone else?
Behind me, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. I glanced over my right shoulder. Not far away, Tia and Greg paused.
“Tia, Greg, can you see this Etite?” I pointed straight ahead.
“No.” Greg squinted, trying to spot the alien.
“I can’t see it.” Tia wore a puzzled expression as she looked around..
“He’s not on my ultraviolet screen.” Greg kept studying his tablet.
Yeliv and Paley stopped, close to us.
I repeated my question and pointed at the Etite.
“No,” Yeliv replied. “According to my latest MRI probe, the only things that are in front of you are falling snowflakes and the ground.” His tablet had projected a strong magnetic field onto the adjacent open space and transmitted high frequency radio waves. But atomic nuclei didn’t create a magnetic resonance image of a lung, heart, kidneys or other internal organs.
I hesitated, wondering why the beings were here.
“This is odd.” Yeliv rubbed his chin, scowling. “Why can’t we see this Etite? The problem is that I can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you. It might be that the lack of oxygen is affecting our minds.” He shrugged.
I told them about finding Bemme’s severed head and upper torso.
Greg frowned, yet he didn’t say a word.
Tia blinked. “I don’t what to say about the severed head.” Then she narrowed her eyes, searching for the aliens. “I can’t see them.”
Yeliv paused. “A severed head. Very mysterious.”
Paley glanced at his tablet and spoke into it.
My HMR produced a text translation. This mysterious entity…this apparition, isn’t showing up on my screen. I don’t know what to think about them or Bemme’s severed head.
I looked to the right and left, searching for more ghostly figures, and only noticed cliffs. “Let’s forget about it. We have to reach Solo and find the COV10 replacement disk.”
Everyone else agreed with me. All of us hiked.
Within the hour, I sniffed. “The air smells like cheap perfume and sulphur.”
“The odor is getting stronger.” Yar stumbled. “I feel dizzy.”
“I’m feeling the same way.” I crouched.
“I…” Yar started choking.
I spoke into my tablet. “Greg! Anybody, some fumes are….”
Nobody answered.
I took the compressed sleeping bag off my sleeve. Along the edge of the bag, an anchor head, one that was at the top of a metal shaft, began spinning. I grabbed the shaft, equipment that was attached to a line, a cord that was connected to the bag, and pushed the spinning head into the cliff.
It made a grinding sound as the device dug into the rock. Then it stopped. Now the bag was secured to the cliff, held in place by a line. I picked up another shaft, repeated the procedure.
When I was done, I climbed down, hurrying toward Yar.
She raised her hand slowly, trying to shove a spinning head into the cliff. Yar dropped it, overcome by fumes.
I grabbed the shaft, shoved the rotating head into the cliff, repeating the procedure as her bag expanded.
She crawled inside and rolled away from the cliff. Along the top of her bag, the loose cords, lines that were attached to the anchors, went taut and she stopped. If Yar had rolled a few more inches, she would have gone over the edge.
I inched my way up the trail and crawled into my bag. Nausea built in my guts, seizing my limbs in tiny tremors. Seconds passed, the sensation worsened. My vision dimmed and the world swam before my eyes. Darkness closed in, tunneling my vision. A sheen of sweat cased my skin as the world faded.
Chapter Nineteen
“In the Rii, a four century old ritual, Glemal men and women fight each other with swords and laser pistols. After nine years of practice, they respect each other.
Embas men and women, their families and friends attend large dinners called the Toge because they trust one another.
Although the Glemal, the Embas, Qoowo, Aito, and others find it hard to communicate, I can speak to all of them because of my language and diplomatic skills.”
Yar Massi, the Niil Ambassador
ST7’s port wing tip barely missed a cliff. Without warning, the starboard wing tip hit an overhanging snowdrift—the snow broke apart!
I squeezed the trigger and opened my eyes. There was only darkness. Then my eyes adjusted. I was inside my sleeping bag. I had been dreaming. After yawning, I crawled out, walked, reached inside Yar’s snow-covered bag, and tugged her shoulder pad. “Please wake up.” I aimed my flashlight at her face.
She blinked, surprised. “Relto,” she whispered, a barely audible clicking noise.
A translation came out of my earplugs. What?
“Let’s get out of here. I think we were sprayed with nerve gas. It could happen again.”
Another translation came out. I’m…so…tired.
“Come on.”
I went down the trail and stooped next to a sleeping bag and pushed it with my hand.
“What?” Greg muttered in a sleepy voice.
“If we don’t leave right now, they’ll spray us again, and we’ll starve to death in the cold.”
“Just a minute.” He stuck his head out, then coughed.
I hiked and crouched next to another bag, shook someone’s back with my hand, and shouted, “Everyone, listen! They might spray us any second!
Tia crawled out of the bag, rubbed her burnt cheek, sat up, then groaned. After yawning, she glanced at me.
“Tia, are you ready?”
“What?”
I repeated my request.
As her holographic mask switched on, she reached out. I grabbed her hand and pulled to her feet. Tia scowled. “I have a bad headache. I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
“Can you walk?”
“I think so.” She staggered and slowly removed an anchor from the cliff.
I bit my lip, frustrated, and went down the trail, hurrying toward the others.
Yeliv took anchors o
ut of the cliff. “Jason, I feel nauseous, but I’m almost ready to leave.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
He nodded.
Beyond a rock, Paley grabbed his sleeping bag and it compressed. He didn’t need my help.
I went up the trail. As snowflakes went over branches, the faint smell of cheap perfume and sulphur grew stronger. Although I felt groggy, I climbed faster—my boot slipped and almost went over the edge. I grabbed a rock and kept going.
Beyond a tree root, a ghostly Etite man in a silver jacket appeared, “Yi. Hin. Aa…” Much to my surprise, his legs, torso and one arm began stretching apart. Without warning, the alien’s neck and body vanished. The man’s head remained motionless, his lips moving.
Feeling curious, I walked toward him.
His face began swirling—broke apart.
I peered to the left and right, searching for him.
Next to some ice, a gray mouse with a flat tail jumped inside a crack. The Etite was gone.
Somewhere ahead of me, a man’s voice whispered, “Yaiw.”
My earplugs announced a partial translation. Yes…
Another man murmured, “Jun. In.” His speech was replaced by a ticking noise.
Tell me… The partial translation, information coming out of my earplugs, trailed off, becoming an incoherent whisper, and was replaced by a soft crackling sound.
Were the voices an after effect of the spray, hallucinations? I didn’t know.
“Yar, do you know about TG Sixty-Eight?” I glanced at her, talking about a hallucinogenic spray.
“No. Yeliv just sent me a message. He knows about TG Sixty-Seven, not Sixty-Eight.”
“I’ll ask him about it later. Right now, my headache is getting worse.”
About six hours after being exposed to TG68, a nerve gas that smelled like mustard and Lilacs, you started vomiting. Soon afterward, you lost consciousness. Sometimes you woke up. On other occasions, you died because neurotoxins within the chemical had provoked brain hemorrhaging.
At other times, the neurotoxins stopped Ion channels, pore-forming proteins. As a result, the channels couldn’t transmit small electrical charges across a cell’s plasma membrane, and you never regained consciousness.
