Stranger Suns

by George Zebrowski

  “Look,” Kaliapin said as they reached the spot.

  They all squatted down. The man and woman lay just below the surface, their eyes wide open, staring upward; waves of yellow light washed through their bodies.

  “They seem unhurt,” Kaliapin said, “but they may be dead, for all we know.”

  Lena looked up at him. “It must be part of the treatment. Maybe the severity of their bodily damage prompted it.”

  “What about the chamber?” Kaliapin demanded.

  “Something similar must be going on there also,” Lena replied. “It will open when the process is complete.”

  “What do you think, Dr. Obrion?” Kaliapin asked.

  “This is all of a piece with what we've seen of the alien systems—fluid, basic control of matter and energy, beyond our wildest hopes for nanotech.”

  “How long have they been like this?” Lena asked.

  “Several hours. Dr. Dravic, perhaps there is some other explanation for this, not the medical one you've suggested.”

  “No,” Lena replied. “As we've told you, something like this happened to us. Scars disappeared.”

  “But no one ever recovers from these kinds of radiation injuries!”

  The waves of light flowing through the floor stopped suddenly. “Stand back,” Lena said.

  As they watched, the figures came up through the surface; it closed beneath them.

  “It consumed their stretchers,” Kaliapin said.

  Lena knelt down and felt the pulses of the man and woman. “Normal,” she said after a few moments, then examined the figures more carefully, feeling their throats and checking their torsos. “All external signs of radiation burns are gone. They're asleep.”

  “What should we do?” Kaliapin asked.

  “I suggest you leave them here until they wake up,” Lena said, “then start bringing the others out. Don't wait for the chamber door to open. Otherwise, many of your cases may not live long enough to be treated. I'm going to check on as many of them as I can right now.”

  “Mal and I'll give you a hand,” Magnus said. Kaliapin motioned to the four soldiers to remain on guard as they all hurried back toward the lock.

  “Anatoli,” Ivan said, “Dr. Obrion and I would like a word with you.” Juan tensed. Ivan wasn't wasting any time.

  Kaliapin looked at them warily. “Of course.”

  They passed inside behind Lena, Magnus, and Malachi, then turned to look out at the couple on the floor. “We'll be right here,” Juan called out to Lena as she and the others continued down the passage.

  Ivan said, “If things improve for your people, then we will leave to carry out our original mission. Do you object?”

  Kaliapin looked surprised for a moment, then said, “You've been essential to our situation here, and I would not wish to seem ungrateful. We haven't lost our original world in quite the way you have, but if this ship fails to return to Earth, as seems likely, we will have to try the frames—either to go home or to explore.”

  “That will give you a chance,” Juan answered, “to find a variant that hasn't destroyed itself, to explore, or to call this ship home.”

  “Isn't there some way we might all stay together?” Kaliapin asked. “I realize that you might view this as merely another variant.”

  Ivan said, “You will have the same chance as we do of regaining an intact world.”

  Kaliapin smiled. “What if we arrive just before it happens again?”

  “Then you must try again,” Ivan said. “But it might just as easily be a variant that will not destroy itself.”

  Juan looked carefully at Kaliapin, who was at a loss for words. “Do you object to our leaving?”

  Kaliapin hesitated, then said, “A recovering community needs all the individuals it can get, especially skilled people and teachers.”

  Moved by the man's plea, and the pride in his voice, Juan said, “We won't go until we know your group is settled. And there's a good chance that we'll be back. Our alternates will serve you just as well.”

  Kaliapin shrugged. “I understand your curiosity, and you do have a mission to carry out. I will become the mayor of a small town, a Russian village that has no need for agriculture to live.” He smiled. “My grandfather was the mayor of a small town. I became a propulsion engineer, but this ship is more than I could ever accomplish.”

  “We wish you well,” Juan said.

  Kaliapin sighed. “I'd rather you stayed, but I have no authority to keep you, and will feel no ill will.” He looked at Ivan. “Don't worry, none of the officers will try to stop your going. You do want to go, Ivan?”

  “I'm part of the UN team.”

  “I understand.”

  As Juan shook hands with him, one of the soldiers guarding the couple cried out. The man and woman were getting to their feet, hands trembling as they reached out for each other, alive and whole.

  * * *

  After they had made their preparations for departure, Juan went to the lock and gazed out over the station floor. A river of yellow light flowed through the hundreds of human figures locked in the alien amber, probing and repairing, restoring the delicate cellular machineries born of evolution's bloody building program, bestowing mercies on blind nature's soft creatures.

  Did the ship or station know what it was doing? Again he wondered why the starcrossers had needed such large facilities. Had they shifted large populations throughout the galaxy? What part had Earth played? Only further exploration might offer clues.

  24. EXILES

  Once again they stood in the deep chamber. The beams from their helmets bridged the cavernous chamber and disappeared into the black frames. Juan asked, “Which one will it be? Second from the left will put us into Ship One, inside a suncore station somewhere, and since it seems that we've been moving only between ships based in Earth's sunspace, three will take us back into the Amazon. One leads into a branching corridor somewhere, according to Mal.”

  “I vote for Ship One,” Lena said. “We know what to expect, and so did the Soviet team.”

  “I agree,” Juan said. “We'll try the unknowns after we've eliminated the likeliest.” He grasped Lena's hand. She reached over to Magnus, who linked with Malachi, who reached out to Ivan.

  “Ready,” the Russian said from the end of the chain.

  Lena tightened her grip. Juan entered the frame. His helmet light flickered for a moment as he went through the blackness.

  “Follow me,” he said when they were all out.

  The exit glowed and he slipped—

  —into the familiar passage.

  The others came out behind him, squinting in the bright light.

  “How distant is this suncore?” Ivan asked.

  “No way to measure,” Juan said, “but far beyond our galaxy.”

  They turned off their helmet lights, went up and made the right turn, and started up the straight section of passage. “Perhaps we should shout,” Ivan said. “They might hear us.”

  “Hello!” Malachi bellowed. “Hello! Hello!” His voice echoed and died away.

  Lena said, “They won't hear if they're in one of the chambers, or outside.”

  “Perhaps they're dining,” Ivan said, “or asleep.”

  “Let's see if the shuttle is here,” Juan said as they came to the turn at the end of the section. He presented himself to the entrance. It glowed and he passed—

  —into the shuttle bay.

  The craft sat in its cradle. He turned and stepped—

  —out into the passage. “It's there,” he said.

  “Hello!” Malachi called out again.

  Lena said, “Maybe it stranded them on the planet and returned. They may be trying to find their way back.”

  “Or they're still here somewhere,” Juan said. “We'll check the second cafeteria.” He led the way past the entrance to the drum-shaped chamber, counting off the ovals.

  “Don't startle them,” Ivan said as Juan stopped before the entrance.

  “Were
they armed?” Malachi asked.

  “Possibly.”

  They dropped their packs.

  “I can't believe they'd shoot,” Lena said.

  “I'll go in with hands up,” Juan said.

  He stepped toward the portal. It reddened and he passed—

  —into the familiar blue light of the chamber.

  Two men and a woman stood up at one of the alien tables.

  “Be calm,” Juan said, pointing to the UN-ERS insignia on his oversuit. They regarded him in silence. “I'm Juan Obrion, with the other team. We've been searching for you.”

  Dita Karenina stared at him with large, brown, slightly Asian eyes. Her long brown hair was disheveled. Isak Bilenkin, a plump, slightly balding man, squinted at him with fierce blue eyes. The tall red-haired young man had to be Yerik Khasan.

  “I see you've learned what this chamber is for,” Juan said, gesturing at the provisions on the two tables.

  Yerik Khasan nodded.

  “And you obviously understand the doorways, as well as the frames?”

  “Yes, yes,” the tall man said impatiently, “but why have you come after us?” His English was nearly without accent.

  “What do you mean?” Juan asked, wondering what changes this variant would reveal.

  “We've met before, Dr. Obrion,” Yerik Khasan said. “We've been back to the ship in the Soviet Union several times, where we met you and your colleagues.”

  Juan said, “Then you know about the war and the variant effect?”

  “Yes,” he answered sadly.

  “I'll get the others,” Juan said.

  * * *

  “How is it that you're here?” Lena asked as they all knelt around the table.

  “We tried other frames,” Dita said. “This is our third passage. On our first return, the ship was deserted and we couldn't go outside because of the radiation. Second time back we met you, when you came through from Brazil. Then the ship left Earth and entered the sun, where we discovered that both ship and station had medical facilities. Then the eight of us pooled what we had learned and decided to explore the web. The ship's shuttle could only take us back to the ruined variant of Earth. Your group took one frame, we took another. You still seem to be the people we met.” She gave a weak smile.

  “We're meeting you for the first time,” Lena said.

  “I thought as much. Are the survivors well where you came from?”

  Lena nodded. “They're recovering.”

  Isak Bilenkin said, “The variants seem to cluster around familiar possibilities, war among them, but the other changes seem to be small, personal details, some of them trivial. Tell me, Dr. Obrion, do you believe that we can transfer only to variants where we can't meet ourselves—that is, to worlds where our doubles are absent either because they have left or died? And doesn't that perhaps suggest that we can return to a world where we are dead?”

  “It's possible,” Juan replied, “but we can only find out by trying. The exchanges have seemed symmetrical so far.”

  “Do you know where you are?” Magnus asked.

  “Ship One,” Isak said, “inside a white dwarf. We read your report.”

  Juan asked, “Has anything disturbing happened to you here?”

  “Yes,” Dita said slowly. “We've suffered from terrible nightmares and headaches, as if something were probing us.”

  “It's the ship,” Juan said. “It doesn't know quite how to deal with us. We had similar experiences, but there didn't seem to be any damage done.”

  Dita looked relieved. “We thought we were going mad.”

  “As for the station outside,” Juan continued, “it will display your imaginings.”

  “We stayed inside after that experience,” Yerik said.

  Dita looked at Juan with concern. “The variant effect was not mentioned in your ERS report, or that passing through the frames may destroy personal identity if only patterns are transmitted and then reconstructed from fresh materials, which would make us twins of our original selves. Unless our actual particles are transmitted and rejoined, then we die and are replaced by our twins with every passage.”

  “We're not certain that's what happens,” Juan replied. “It's possible that the frames are direct bridges, with no transmission of particles.”

  Isak shook his head and smiled. “A consoling possibility, but if we're ghosts we'll never know it, since the originals are long gone, as is our original world.”

  “Do you have coffee?” Ivan asked.

  Yerik pushed a thermos toward him.

  “We've been thinking,” Dita said, “that we should try to find an undestroyed variant and help it survive by telling what we've learned.”

  Malachi brightened a little as he sat down next to Dita. They were silent as Ivan poured coffee into cups.

  Yerik said, “I doubt that a humankind which failed to control nuclear weapons would take anything we've learned to heart. Environmental problems were terrifying enough, yet little was done. The world's leaders would not be frightened by our story of parallel worlds.”

  “We must try,” Dita said. “Perhaps in further explorations we may find help for our kind.”

  Juan cringed inwardly. “I fear what our kind will do with the web.”

  Dita frowned. “If we make known our experiences, and if others join us in exploring the web, then we might be able to create a moral pressure for a better world.”

  We're all the enemy,Juan wanted to say as he looked into her eyes. She made him feel ashamed as she looked back.

  “There is so much we've found,” she continued, “that could help humankind.”

  “You mean the replicator,” Juan answered. “Sure, we can use it, put power in the hands of politicians, if we ever find a whole Earth.”

  Magnus said, “Juan, I'd rather do something easier, for now, like visit the nearby planet.”

  “The shuttle is here,” Juan said.

  “Why not use a frame?” Dita asked.

  “It's an unpleasant hike from where it connects to the dome complex.”

  Yerik asked, “Will the ship wait for us here?”

  “Yes,” Malachi said, “because the shuttle will be absent. Although we don't know how the ship makes decisions, I suspect it tries to be useful to its passengers.”

  Isak said, “The three of us haven't been to this planet.”

  “Ivan and I haven't seen it either,” Magnus said.

  Dita looked puzzled. As Magnus explained why he was not quite himself, Juan realized why the older man wanted to visit the place where his variant had died.

  25. VASTNESS

  The thin, bare branches of the alien tree sprouted like a shock of gray hair from the trunk. Overhead, the globular cluster suggested a shattered sun. The disk of the red-white dwarf rolled on the horizon of the rusty brown desert. Musky odors rose from the land of scattered red-leafed plants clinging to the rocky soil with green-glowing roots. Juan shivered in the gritty breeze and squinted at the domes. Nothing seemed to have changed.

  He turned back toward the tree, where Magnus was searching the ground on all fours with his helmet light turned up high, working his way toward the trunk.

  Juan said, “We've never returned to the same variant. There can't be a grave there.”

  “It's a simple enough experiment to do,” Magnus answered. He pulled open his collapsible spade and began to dig.

  “Take it easy,” Juan said; his throat constricted. It would be a brutal irony if Magnus died here again. He looked down at the growing hole, wondering if somehow the body could be here, and for an instant saw the shape of its head under the dirt. Cold sweat broke out on his face.

  “You're right,” Magnus said after a moment, “there's no grave here.” He sat down against the trunk and caught his breath. “I'm sorry. This must not be pleasant for you.”

  “I knew you wanted to come here.”

  “I'd imagined examining my own body, maybe meeting my own living self. What do you think this place was?” />
  “Lena thought the domes a kind of town,” Juan said. “There's an underground installation nearby, with frames. I think it may be what's left of a staging area that was used to establish the suncore station.”

  A dust storm on the horizon was beginning to obscure the sinking white dwarf. Strangeness rushed through him as he breathed the musky odors of the alien desert. Magnus got up and came out from under the tree. “Here they come,” he said, pointing.

  Four dark shapes marched down the sandy rise, single eyes blazing with light. Juan watched for two others to come over the top. When they failed to appear, he hurried over to the group and saw only the four Russians. “Where's Mal and Lena?” he shouted over the rising wind.

  “Keeping the shuttle here,” Dita answered. “They don't want to risk it leaving. Which way?”

  Juan led the way between the first two domes. Magnus joined them as they neared the dome Juan's group had entered on their previous visit. “Follow me in!” he shouted over the mournful wind, then turned and faced the entrance.

  It glowed and he passed—

  —into the dome's golden space.

  The others came in beside him. His eyes adjusted and he went forward across the black floor.

  “What is this place?” Dita asked.

  “Watch,” he said as the light faded into total darkness.

  A galaxy swirled below them as the floor became transparent. The view pulled into a dense region of one of the spiral arms, to a yellow star, then closer to show a ring of worlds around the sun.

  “So many!” Dita exclaimed. “They must be artificial.”

  More habitat-worlds appeared, gradually enclosing the sun in a shell of life.

  “Time is passing,” Juan said as red beams stabbed out from the worlds, penetrating the galaxy's quadrants, then branched out into the globular clusters over the hub. The view pulled back, reducing the galaxy to one in a cluster. Red beams linked these galaxies. The view pulled back even further, revealing dozens of clusters being joined by the web's red beams.

  “So where are they?” Isak asked. “What happened?”

  “One possibility we've discussed,” Juan replied, “is that they grew very long-lived. There were fewer individuals as time passed, with longevity replacing reproduction. A winnowing took place, which left only those who could sustain an interest in life. They may still be out there somewhere.”