Flower-of-Sands: The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut (Seriously Intergalactic Book 1)

by Grahame R. Smith

  Darkness grew and the air became cold. As they both rose to go into the cabin, she decided to renege on her promise to herself, slipped her hand into his, and led him towards her bedroom.

  She broke six pookee eggs into a bowl and beat them, added a handful of Marleeseen pine nuts and a few pinches of herbs from her garden, and poured the mixture into a pan she had placed on a hot stove. Apart from the Nano-sky-unit stove, everything was natural. She cut two large slices from a heated sour loaf and lashed them with hillside bean butter. She had become fond of cooking on Earth and indulged it whenever possible. She had an excellent food and drink auto-brocade in her kitchen, but preferred hands-on cooking.

  Everything prepared, she put the food on to a tray and walked out into the late morning. Edge was walking naked towards her, his skin glistening from a swim in a nearby pool. Earlier his implant’s holo-network had been alive with messages, mostly from women. One message she had witnessed with amusement. ‘Edge, what has happened. Why are you not responding? Your fans await your daily call to fun, misbehaviour, and decadence. She (I presume it’s a she) must be really special for you to be so unavailable.’

  Grinning, Edge dried himself with a nearby towel and dressed.

  ‘Your fan club has been at it all morning,’ Flower-of-Sands said lightly. ‘Do you not have duties to perform?’

  ‘They can wait. Hey, this food in amazing. You actually cooked this yourself, actually cooked it?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Edge was incredulous. ‘Then you truly are primitive, and a rebel. Apart from some of the Marleeseen restaurants, it’s unheard of.’

  For a while, they ate in silence, occasionally exchanging smiles, and gazing out across the prairie and its abundance of wild life. She wondered if true love was lurking on the horizon. Sex did not pose a problem on Liberty. Everyone was equal and equally beautiful in their own way; it was mostly a question of taste; if one wished one could choose one’s body, create clones of one, and replicate one, and, if one so chose, create one’s own synthetic partner or change sex. Few bothered.

  Flower-of-Sands felt at home with Edge, – but maybe that was just his way with people, part of his charm. Time will reveal all, she thought. He had drifted into her life and into her bed in such an easy manner. And she didn’t want him to drift away, at least, not until she knew if he could deliver her heart’s desire: access to the Shiloramedel intergalactic super drives.

  Using a simple wooden spoon, Edge ate with remarkable delicacy. His eyes shone with challenge as he eyed her, ‘We are not the only ones.’

  ‘Only ones what?’

  ‘The only ones interested in exploration in the three-dimensional, intergalactic world. There are others. And I know them. We meet regularly.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Would you like to meet them?’

  ‘That, dear Edge, super playboy of a thousand fans, is a silly question.’

  The bar was spherical, constantly rotating, and floating over a lake where children played with an assortment of toy water vehicles, some enormous. Inside, an area of tables glowed opal-green, and panoramic windows looked out over the lake and beyond, distorting the view through constantly shifting mirages.

  Edge led Flower-of-Sands outside where two men and a woman were sipping drinks on what appeared to be a pale-yellow float. A translucent hover-tray appeared accompanied by a seductive, contralto voice inviting a choice of beverages. A wide choice manifested in their implants. Flower-of-Sands was at a loss and shrugged, so Edge ordered for them both.

  The drinks materialized on the hover-tray and two semi-transparent seats materialized.

  ‘Let me introduce my friends,’ Edge said smoothly with a hint of humour.

  One of the men, Lincoln, was wearing brownish shorts and a dark green top like an Earth T-shirt. He leant back in his seat, crossing his legs, his attitude mildly arrogant as if he had issues with Edge. Flower-of-Sands was not surprised, as Edge was the type to provoke derision in competing males.

  The other male, Lancelot, was quiet and studious with a pale complexion and intense blue eyes that were too bright for his general demeanour. He seemed friendly and slightly in awe of Edge.

  The woman, Astral-La, scared her. Black skinned with hair pinned back in a long ponytail, radiating extreme health and physical prowess, her obsidian eyes expressing a sharp mind, she reminded Flower-of-Sands of a snake, coiled, waiting to strike. Her smile and general expression were commanding, her gaze penetrating and calculating.

  Flower-of-Sands nodded to her new acquaintances, managed a smile, and took a mouthful of her cocktail. Its sweetness swept across her throat and chest. The effect grew and radiated throughout her body; she coughed violently.

  The others laughed sympathetically, except, Astral-La, who looked curious, as if Flower-of-Sands were an experiment about which later she would make notes and include in a study.

  Edge placed his hand on Flower-of-Sands shoulder. ‘Sorry, I should have told you. This drink speaks to one and is very persuasive. Best to sip slowly.’

  ‘You could have warned me.’ Flower-of-Sands felt humiliated, like a child hanging out for the first time with teenagers.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll survive. He’s like that with all his new women,’ Lincoln half sneered.

  ‘I am not “new women,”’ Flower-of-Sands had the presence of mind to retort.

  ‘Welcome to our little gang,’ Lancelot said gently. ‘Don’t mind us, we are odd bods. It’s just an experiment, nothing more, and going wrong, probably.’

  Flower-of-Sands looked curious. ‘How?’

  ‘We experiment with negativity. You see the Field has liberated our society from suffering, including the suffering of negativity – jealousy, envy, resentment, anger and other primitive emotions.’ He glanced at Lincoln. ‘Well – mostly. We just mess with these feelings out of curiosity. We don’t really mean them.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Astral-La muttered under her breath, her eyes casually exploring Flower-of-Sands.

  ‘Edge says you are interested in exploration, specifically, the Shiloramedel intergalactic drive,’ Lancelot said.

  ‘Absolutely, yes, very much.’ Flower-of-Sands felt hope rising.

  ‘We have talked about that,’ Lincoln said, ‘how it can be linked to the Field. ‘But … we are not sure we really want to pursue it beyond anything but the theoretical stage.’

  Flower-of-Sands felt her heart sink. ‘Are you only interested in the theory, and not in its application?’

  ‘Eventually, of course, we hope to put our findings into action,’ Lincoln said lazily. ‘But why, when it comes down to it, would one actually want to go and do that. This galaxy, indeed this system alone, presents enough challenges. For example, we are sending probes into the stellar nursery, the Luminous Nebula. Isn’t that excitement enough for you?’

  ‘Okay. Well yes, that is exciting. But there have been reports of people going missing …’

  ‘From Earth,’ Lancelot said. ‘We’ve heard about that. They are regarding it as some form of primitive activity. They call it crime, I think.’

  ‘I think it is a kidnapping,’ Flower-of-Sands said. ‘People taking people against their will and holding them for ransom.’

  ‘Like children’s holo, four dimensional games.’

  ‘Yes, in a way.’

  ‘Please explain,’ Edge said as he sipped his drink. ‘We are interested in primitive, pre-liberation behaviour.’ They all laughed in anticipation of Flower-of-Sands’ expected clarification.

  ‘Okay. It’s holding people against their will, using them as leverage, and demanding payment for their safe return.’

  ‘Why?’ Lancelot asked.

  ‘To gain money, power, to influence events.’ Flower-of-Sands sighed. She was not getting very far. ‘I don’t really know. I’ve never done it. I’ve just heard about it.’

  ‘And you think this is what has happened with these disappearances.’

  ‘Yes, I do. A person
called Melange-Lo has given me permission to pursue the matter. He has put me in charge.’ Flower-of-Sands muttered. She sighed. ‘Are you people not interested in exploration?’

  There was an awkward silence.

  ‘I’m interested.’ Astral-La’s voice was rich and silky with a hint of breathlessness. ’And you interest me.’ She pointed at Edge. ‘Why don’t you speak? Give your new girlfriend some support.’

  ‘I was seeing how things panned out.’ He looked at Flower-of-Sands. ‘Astral-La and I are definitely interested in actual exploration beyond this galaxy. We are sure her uncle’s company will finance and support the operation. We were thinking of it even before you appeared on the scene. That you have appeared, we regard as auspicious.’

  Flower-of-Sands dared to look at Astral-La. ‘You mean you will accompany me on my proposed project.’

  ‘Or you accompany us,’ Astra-La said smoothly, each syllable like a small sting.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Flower-of-Sands hastened to add. ‘I don’t mean to be pushy. Please don’t think that.’

  ‘Good God no,’ Astral-La grinned.

  Flower-of-Sands felt herself sinking even further into deflation.

  Don’t be frightened of me, sweetheart, I mean you no harm. Flower-of-Sands broke into a sweat as the words reverberated silently in her head, not through her implant network, but directly. Astral-dark was telepathic. The situation could not be worse.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Astral-La said aloud, laying a warm hand on Flower-of-Sands’ knee. ‘I will only use my ability in an emergency or with your permission. That was uncalled for, I do apologize.’

  Edge gave Astral-La a reprimanding look that was out of keeping with his playboy persona.

  Astral-La shrugged, her eyes smouldering, her expression guiltless. She had switched the gathering to a new paradigm.

  ‘She uses it in sex, if you ask her nicely,’ Lincoln drawled. ‘It’s sensational, apparently.’

  Astral-La grinned and winked at Flower-of-Sands, who could feel warmth spreading across her body like an irresistible flood. Was it from her drink or from something else? Her abdomen fluttered and she felt her mouth become dry. She liked Edge a lot, but was keenly aware of the magnetic Astral-la. Oh no, she thought, this is going to be one hell of a project.

  With or without lift off.

  Chapter 8

  A distant hum indicated the artificial gravity engaging. They were in orbit. A synthetic hostess with encouraging eyes floated down the aisle.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please stay seated whilst we link with space station Alpha. Captain Chase and his crew thank you for flying with us and wish you a pleasant stay here on the station, or, if you are traveling in-system, a safe and fruitful journey. Those who are going on to our moon, please stay seated, as this shuttle will be your mode of transport.’ Her voice stopped and music started to play. ‘Ah, there it is. The shuttle has docked, perfectly as usual. The all clear is now given. Those staying on station or travelling to the moons of the system’s outer planets please collect your belongings. Note that the station’s AI has linked to your implant-networks; information relevant to your circumstances is now available.’

  Flower-of-Sands grabbed her shoulder bag and accompanied Astral-La and Edge down the aisle to the exit where they emerged into an explosion of silver and crimson. Her eyes tried to adjust. The station was a giant nexus of entwining multiple, alloyed structures, vibrant, pulsating, and alive. Field valves quivered and heaved, uniting biological and mechanical engineering in an overwhelming display of technical achievement. She felt like a child on a school trip. No wonder people were not interested in intergalactic travel; why leave this wealth of experience. These thoughts entertained her briefly, however; lurking at the back of her mind was her vision of adventure and escape from a world she felt was stagnating.

  They passed through a translucent tunnel leading from the shuttle launch zone to the station’s main lobby. It felt like space walking, the blue mass of Liberty Primary stretching beneath them, a jewel against a dark, velvet background. Her implant-network informed her that the station would soon move into night. Already she could see flashes of aurora along the rim of the planetary orb.

  Suddenly, she felt a wave of apprehension and swayed slightly.

  Edge grabbed her. ‘Careful, the artificial gravity takes time to adjust to.’

  ‘It’s not that, Edge, I’m used to space. It’s having been in hibernation for so long. I associate space with oblivion. It reminds me that I could easily have stayed in hibernation stasis forever; it scares me.’

  ‘Worry not. You are safe with me.’

  She looked doubtful.

  He squeezed her arm, at the same time surveying the recreation facilities that were already apparent across the looming expanse of the station. If one wanted distraction, this was the place. In ancient times, space stations were austere vehicles for scientific experiments, devoid of artificial gravity, a challenge to human biology; atrophy of body and bone mass, and months of adjustment following extended periods in space. Now, space stations were theme parks, boosted by artificial gravity and sophisticated life-support systems, offering a wide range of recreational and commercial activities. Edge was in his element. Ostensibly, his reason for bringing Flower-of-Sands and Astral-La here was to meet Astral-La’s uncle and discuss a suitable approach to a voyage to a neighbouring galaxy. His real reason, Flower-of-Sands suspected, was partying.

  ‘There are some amazing clubs here,’ he said casually. ‘One, Spectrum, where we are going tonight, or rather later.’

  ‘Oh, that’s where we’re going is it?’

  ‘Of course, you can’t come here and not go there. It is essential.’

  ‘Essential, I see.’ Flower-of-Sands tossed her head and looked at him sideways. ‘I have no choice?’

  ‘You don’t. And you like it like that, surely, Oh vision from the deep past.’

  ‘I don’t care what we do, as long as we get to see Astral-La’s uncle. Which is our reason for coming here – is it not?’

  ‘Could be.’

  She closed her eyes with exasperation, but said nothing.

  Astral-La drew alongside them. ‘Turn left here, and then we can jump to my uncle.’

  They were in a white circular chamber where hundreds of people waited for jump cradles. Despite the size of the chamber and its continuous use, the atmosphere was subdued. Every few seconds a jump cradle flashed into view, allowing passengers to disembark before a fresh intake eagerly boarded.

  ‘How big is this station?’ Flower-of-Sands asked Astral-La as they settled into a cradle.

  ‘Err, I think twenty kilometres, something like that, maybe thirty. The station is in geocentric orbit, about 500 kilometres above Liberty City, but changes from time to time, at the whims of the station authorities – people like my uncle. Then there are the subsidiaries, sub-stations, or offshoots (here she looked mockingly at Edge) like some of the clubs. But more importantly, launch areas for interstellar flights, which are also giant research labs and universities.’

  Flower-of-Sands was impressed and even managed a friendly smile at Astral-La, who seemed animated, perhaps in anticipation of seeing her uncle, who had sponsored many of her projects and had supported her every whim since she was a child. In many respects, he had been her guru. From him, she had learned how to navigate the Field. He had also assisted her in handling her gift of telepathy. Furthermore, he had encouraged her other gifts, about which Flower-of-Sands was soon to learn.

  They were sharing a cradle with three student research scientists, two women and a man, who nodded politely and appeared to know Astral-La. The cradle’s destination was Sub-Station 10, a major scientific area and a launch pad for non-commercial flights to the outer system and interstellar space.

  The cradle slid out of the launch chamber and coasted effortlessly across the roof of the space station’s main hall, before burrowing into the roof and through the station’s complex web of i
nfrastructure. Suddenly they were in space, skimming across the outside of the station along a force-field rail. Below, Liberty Primary was becoming dark as the space station and planet moved into night, aurora flashing across the horizon, vivid star formations emerging. Flower-of-Sands noticed that they were moving at a moderate speed. No doubt, this was to enable those interested to view the immensity around them. The three students, who had obviously made the journey many times, paid little attention to the outside, and chatted quietly about their work, referring from time to time to holo-pads attached to their wrists.

  After passing through the station’s central rotating formation, they moved faster for about 8 kilometres over a desert of gleaming steel surface and finally plunged into an opening, before pulling into Sub-Station 10.

  Busy was an understatement. Everywhere people moved and worked – engineering and construction sounds reverberating, loud compared to the subdued atmosphere of the main station. Moreover, Flower-of-Sands noticed the artificial gravity was different; she felt light, floating, and buoyant.

  ‘This way,’ Astral-La said as they pushed past a group of maintenance personnel.

  They boarded a simple moving platform. Controls manifested in holo and Astral-La typed in a virtual command. The section of the platform on which they were standing detached from the main body and ascended to a ceiling lined with a series of balconies. As they landed on the largest balcony, a man with closely cropped hair, a short beard and penetrating eyes came forward to meet them. He embraced Astral-La, nodded to Edge, whom he knew, and smiled graciously at Flower-of-Sands.

  ‘I’m Astral’s uncle. Call me Clayton. Come,’ he said briskly. ‘You are in a time for a launching.’

  ‘To where?’ Flower-of-Sands asked, her voice indicating awe.

  ‘To the great stellar nursery, the Luminous Nebula. We are gathering fascinating information concerning the birth of stars.’