Flower-of-Sands_The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut

by Grahame R. Smith

  ‘You mean it regards us as food,’ Faithe asked.

  ‘Something like that. Therefore, you must prepare to defend yourselves, with our help.’

  ‘And how are we to do that?’ Flower-of-Sands asked.

  ‘I suggest you allow me (us) to be avatar for the ship and all its AI functions.’

  Flower-of-Sands looked thoughtful. ‘I know it seems a silly question, but can we trust you?’

  ‘It is impossible for me to be anything other than trustful. My only aim is to serve and protect. We must not waste time.’

  Faithe and Flower-of-Sands exchanged a brief look and nodded acceptance. Immediately the synthetic took on a completely human appearance, the silver skin dissolving into pink, natural human skin. Still naked, she had all the attributes of a youthful human female. Short black hair sprouted from a baldhead, her arms hung loosely and she grew about twelve centimetres. The synthetic smiled. ‘The wonders of modern science, eh! Synthetic science has developed itself, so you may well be amazed at what we can do. Call me Ninthe. My existential position is to serve and save humankind, so don’t worry, I won’t eat you.’

  Faithe and Flower-of-Sands exchanged more looks but were stunned into silence.

  ‘I will see you both in the conference room in three minutes. At present, there is no sign of an alien presence inside or outside the ship. But that will not last. We must move. We need a battle plan.’

  Flower-of-Sands and Faithe’s eyes followed Ninthe’s designer body into the tube. Now that that Ninthe was in control of the ship, Flower-of-Sands and Faithe took a few moments to gaze at the outside through a small area of the bridge, presumably one of the few direct observation areas allowed by Ninthe. The sight was far from reassuring. They were not in normal space, but in a twisted, dark green matrix. Moreover, on the periphery of the tangled web, luminous shapes were forming.

  They reached the med-bay and went immediately to the med-tank that housed Edge. He was pale and very still. A holo screen hovered above him indicating a slow but even pulse, normal blood pressure, significant electric brain activity, but persistent unconsciousness.

  Ninthe was already in the conference room when they arrived. Presumably, she did not need to go anywhere, as wherever she was she was the core of the ship’s AI system. She was dressed in a pale-blue coverall and looked distractingly attractive, even to Flower-of-Sands and Faithe whose sexual orientation was mostly towards men.

  Ninthe’s manner was informal yet respectful. ‘I can confirm that we are in a hyperspace web, for want of a better expression, and that energy units are lining up to feed on us. We are creating an anti-matter field that we could run across the hull which may have an effect, but we are not sure. We had thought of activating the FTL drive, but the FTL drive is dormant. It is simply frozen.’

  Flower-of-sands and Faithe groaned. ‘So, we are doomed,’ Faithe retorted.

  ‘Not necessarily. There is a chance, but it is controversial. It means shutting everything down and rebooting the entire ship.’

  ‘What, everything?’ Faithe and Flower-of-Sands both looked suspicious.

  ‘Yes, everything, artificial gravity, life support, and that obviously includes me. Complete shutdown. You will need to get into pressure suits and reboot the ship manually.’

  ‘And will that work?’ Flower-of-Sands sounded sceptical.

  ‘Hopefully! The FTL system is frozen in a systems loop, an infinite self-fulfilling paradox. A reboot should jerk it out, forgive the non-technical language.’ Ninthe froze for a few seconds. ‘Something has happened. It’s Edge.’

  The tube-way hissed and Edge stepped out. Flower-of-Sands and Faithe screamed simultaneously and rushed towards him. He tried backing off as he was still frail.

  ‘What happened, Edge?’ Faithe flung her arms around him despite his attempts to fend her off. ‘We were so worried. And we are in trouble.’

  Edge spoke as if they had little time to spare. ‘I’m okay. A bit dizzy, but recovering rapidly. I have not been unconscious in the usual sense. I was in an ultra-cognition trance in which I learned much. I overheard the synthetic’s plan. It’s the wrong approach.’

  ‘Please explain,’ Ninthe insisted.

  ‘Hyperspace is a non-local dimension that is everywhere the same, a universal singularity or single point. Over millions, possibly billions, of years of use by technologically advanced races, life forms have evolved in hyperspace from the remnants of various FTL drives. As they have grown, their need for sustenance has also grown. What they are after is our FTL drives, the raw drives, not the exhaust or slipstream.’ He looked briefly across the bridge and lifted an arm to indicate the entire situation. ‘They want the drives, just that. We and the remainder of the ship are just collateral.’

  ‘So, what must we do?’ Flower-of-Sands looked sympathetically at Edge, afraid that he was overexerting himself.

  ‘We must shed the drives.’

  ‘What?’ Faithe exclaimed. ‘We would be lost in hyperspace.’

  ‘No, that is the point. We are not in hyperspace, but held in stasis at the point of exit. As soon as the alien life forms obtain the drives, the web which imprisons us will disappear and we will arrive in normal space.’

  ‘But where?’ Flower-of-Sands asked.

  Ninthe spoke, ‘We will arrive at approximately 30 astronomical units from the Marleeseen planet (using the distance between the Marleeseen planet and its primary as the AU measurement) with only in system drives to propel us. It would take months to reach Paradise unless someone finds us first, which is unlikely.’

  ‘These are our only options?’ Flower asked apprehensively.

  ‘Yes,’ Edge said flatly. ‘But at least we will be alive.’

  ‘You can survive for years on this ship,’ Ninthe said. ‘The recycle units are all working perfectly. But we must make haste. The life forms are starting to organize and surround us. Some are even touching the hull. We do not know their strength. Nor do we know why they are mainlining on actual drive-valves rather than feeding off a ship’s back flow. We know nothing of them, except that if they get into the ship, we would be helpless.’

  Edge gestured for Flower-of-Sands and Faithe to move into the tube-way. ‘It’s best that we all get into pressure suits, to be entirely safe, and strap down,’ he said. ‘Ninthe, stay with me on the bridge. Sands and Faithe, go to your bunks.’

  ‘Here we are again,’ Faithe said as they strapped down together in their pressure suits, this time on Flower-of-Sands’ bunk. Above them, a screen depicted graphs and analytical read-outs. A distant buzz changed tone, indicating that some action was taking place. A slight jolt suggested that an air lock was opening. Then the screen above switched to a view of the green outside. The valves came into view, long thin cylinders. The camera magnified them as they slipped away. Like large lumps of cotton wool, the hyper-aliens gathered around the valves, quivering, pulsating.

  One of the cotton wool blobs detached itself from the others and came towards the ship. The two women watched in fascinated horror as the blob grew and threatened to engulf the ship. Had Edge retained one of the valves: a dangerous thing to do as the blobs obviously “smelt” the FTL valves and would devour anything standing in their way. The other group of blobs disappeared, taking the valves with them to feast in some remote non-local area of hyperspace, whilst the remaining blob broke into many parts and slid across the ship’s hull. Flower-of-Sands and Faithe could see only part of this on the screen above them and in various holos manifesting beside the bunk, and that was enough to fill them with dread.

  Edge and Ninthe were fully aware of the blobs seeking entry into the ship. They had no way of knowing the blobs’ strength and capacity, but guessed that in this nether world the blobs reigned supreme. Edge had hoped to trick them into believing that they had all the valves. This had not worked. Ninthe was working rapidly to create a virtual FTL valve that would distract the blobs long enough for them to lose their hold on the web that had entangled the ship. Having
completed her task, she launched the phoney valve.

  It appeared to be working. The matrix wavered, strands of green filaments dissolved and liquefied. The blobs encircled the capsule containing the virtual valves that had all the properties of FTL valves without being real. The blobs would catch on quickly, and Edge was taking no chances. He initiated thrust from the in-system drive and the ship lurched into normal space.

  Flower-of-Sands and Faithe lay exhausted for a few moments, but excitement and curiosity overcame them. Leaping from the bunk, they entered the tube-way to the bridge, and found it empty.

  ‘Edge,’ Faithe shouted. ‘This is not funny. Snap out of it. We have had enough excitement for one trip.’

  ‘For a thousand trips, if you ask me,’ Flower-of-Sands muttered.

  There was no sign of Edge or Ninthe. The bridge lay before them like a tomb. Nothing seemed to be working. The icons and holos appeared frozen. It was as if they were inside a children’s life-size toy space ship, seemingly real, but not real at all, everything made of soft plastic. What made it worse was that life support was not working. Perhaps it would be more realistic to say that there was no life support, neither working nor otherwise. There was nothing. They were inside a replica – a representation of the ship rather than the actual ship.

  ‘It must be time-lag, the temps,’ Faithe said, her voice strangely hollow. ‘A really severe dose of temporal and special dislocation. Sands, secure your smart-skin. There is no life support and the air is funny. In fact, air is disappearing.’

  ‘Are we properly out of that green web affair that the space spores trapped us in?’ Flower-of-Sands was holding her head as if it was her only way of holding on to reality.

  ‘A severe dose of temporal dislocation,’ Faithe repeated as if that would confirm her existence in an unpredictable universe.

  ‘I can’t take it anymore,’ Flower-of-Sands said. ‘The universe hates me. It is determined to see me totally and utterly grounded and totally and utterly not in possession of the intergalactic drives.’

  ‘Sands, once we get out of this, if we do, you can feel sorry for yourself. Until then, let’s girl up and figure a way out of this mess.’

  ‘Sorry Faithe. Do you know, I think it is a sort of temporal attack caused by those beastly life forms? That web they held us in must have been a hyperspace substrate from which we have not properly emerged. We are still in hyperspace.’

  As if answering her, they heard a hiss from the tube-way. But how? How could the tube-way be functioning when the ship had frozen into a replica? Did the ship have a trick up its sleeve?

  They felt as if the ship was replicating itself. Another ship, perhaps more than another ship, perhaps many ships, seemed to be superimposing itself upon them. They felt stacked against themselves, like a hundred cards all with the same picture.

  The tube-way sighed and two women – them! – stepped out. They looked alarmed. The sight of herself made Flower-of-sands laugh, but it was a hysterical laugh born of terror. The new Flower-of-Sands waved frantically and seemed to be shouting to them. Faithe went over to the control panel. A holo appeared with the words: Go back to your bunks. Strap in. Try to sleep.

  ‘Sleep! Under these circumstances! Are you crazy,’ the original Flower-of-Sands said.

  The ship split in half with a runway down the middle. Edge was running towards them. He seemed to be in possession of knowledge that the rest of them did not have. He was shouting something and pointing to the tube-way.

  The two halves of the ship flew away and Edge ran straight through them. He turned and gesticulated wildly. He knew something that no one else did. The other Flower-of-Sands and Faithe also knew something, but of a different nature. The effect was bewildering.

  Disbelief and shock had made the original Flower-of-Sands and Faithe incapable of moving. By now, other replicas of the ship were superimposing on the situation. They grabbed each other by the hand and rushed to the tube-way, which did not respond. Again, it was like a life-like toy. Desperate, they floated (artificial gravity had ceased to function) towards an emergency exit-shaft.

  Without hesitation, they leapt into the shaft. Darkness embraced them. They felt the air forcing out of their lungs. Something got hold of them and shook them. A great hand of immense power folded them neatly inside out. Oh, so neatly! Flower-of-Sands felt that never had anything or anyone folded her so neatly.

  She woke up. She was on her bunk. Faithe was lying beside her, clutching both her hands. They were strapped in and wearing their pressure suits. They were alive, everything around them looked normal, and they were both overheating and perspiring excessively.

  ‘I need a drink,’ Flower-of-Sands and Faithe cried simultaneously.

  Chapter 13

  Edge’s voice sounded in their implants. ‘We are out of hyperspace. It was very rough …’

  ‘You’re telling me!’ Flower-of-Sands whispered audibly.

  ‘Sorry, but we are out of danger. We have a functioning in-system drive and a single FTL valve, which should take us to Paradise without a problem. Let us meet in the kitchenette. Drinks are on me.’

  ‘How can we refuse,’ Faithe laughed.

  The women showered and changed into standard pale-green coveralls. Everything was working normally. The ship’s friendly life-support infrastructure seemed to embrace them. After what they had been through, Flower-of-sands’ disappointment at not having the intergalactic drives felt almost theoretical. They were a few hours off the Marleeseen planet. Silently, they contemplated the wonders that awaited them.

  Entering the kitchenette, they embraced and kissed Edge to such an extent that it threatened to become more than an affable greeting. They were all high with the relief of having escaped the hyperspace spores and being back in the normal universe.

  ‘I never thought I would look on the outer asteroid belt of a system as home,’ Faithe said as she poured herself a large mug of simulated Earth coffee, installed courtesy of Flower-of-Sands.

  ‘Me too,’ Flower-of-Sands laughed, helping herself to coffee. ‘I just can’t wait to get stuck into a bottle of Marleeseen wine – the enhanced version.’ She looked at Edge. ‘Where’s Ninthe?’

  ‘Ninthe is configuring our trajectory to Paradise – no doubt perfectly.’

  Flower-of-Sands sat and placed her feet on Edge’s knees. ‘It’s strange, but I quite fancy her.’

  ‘She’s the ship, Flower, get real,’ Edge responded feigning mild disgust. ‘She is an avatar. She is not a person.’

  ‘I think she is. She is to me anyway.’

  ‘Ask her.’ Faithe looked over her coffee cup and winked at Edge.

  ‘I will.’ Flower-of-Sands pretended not to notice the wink. ‘And let’s hope no more adventures until after Paradise. On Earth, they have a saying …’

  ‘Emergency!’ Ninthe’s voice burst into the conversation and peaceful atmosphere. Simultaneously, the ship shook violently from an explosion. Edge and Faithe fell off their seats.

  ‘Ninthe,’ Edge shouted. ‘Speak to us?’

  ‘A ship is approaching. It has highly-sophisticated stealth, like that used by the Rann in the Rann wars. It has just sent an explosive projectile across our bow. I must assume that its intentions are hostile.’

  ‘You don’t say,’ Flower-of-Sands cried.

  ‘However, it does not intend, at least at this stage, to destroy us, as it could easily have done so already.’

  ‘That is very comforting,’ Flower-of-Sands added.

  ‘What should we do?’ Edge asked.

  ‘We can do nothing.’ There was a pregnant silence from Ninthe. ‘Wait. They are attempting to communicate. Come to the bridge, all of you.’

  As they came out of the tube-way onto the bridge, a hologram of a tall unfriendly individual, who looked like he might be a distant cousin of the Rann race, confronted them. His skin was orange with streaks of obsidian. Disease and years of crime ravaged his otherwise handsome features. He was wearing something that resembled a
uniform; behind him were similar figures.

  His voice boomed incomprehensible and aggravating words. Ninthe had disappeared, and Edge and his crew realized that she might have gone to ground. Nevertheless, she had activated the ship’s linguistic program; gradually the fearsome individual’s words became comprehensible.

  ‘We are confiscating the contents of your ship. You are prisoners of Militia Zohar. Stand by. We are boarding. Resistance will meet with immediate execution.’

  ‘You are wasting your time,’ Edge said. ‘We are operating on minimum drives, having been attacked coming out of FTL.’

  The Zohar chief’s reply was a missile the explosion from which flung all three heavily to the floor.

  ‘There will not be another warning,’ the chief sneered.

  As they got to their feet, Faithe whispered, ‘Where is Ninthe.’

  ‘Hiding,’ Edge whispered back. ‘Say nothing.’

  ‘They need us alive, or else they would have killed us,’ Flower-of-Sands said. ‘Ninthe was correct in that assumption.’

  The three stood holding hands waiting for the arrival of the invaders. There were indications that they had boarded. Eventually, the tube-way hissed, and a formidable group stepped onto the bridge. They were tall, fierce, and smelly; one of them was female.

  ‘Out of the frying pan into the fire,’ Flower-of-Sands whispered in English.

  Silence!’ the chief boomed. ‘You are all three near to death.’

  Edge, not understanding the nature of hostility, began to speak.

  ‘You are welcome aboard this ship; but we are down to the bare minimum, due, as I have already said, to an earlier attack. We have no surplus; in fact, we need help ourselves.’