by Rupert Segar
“We are the Métis, we are a proud people, we do not give up,” he said in a deep baritone voice. “Captain Isoko and her crew have found a way forward for us all. The good news is that we have returned to normal space inside a solar system. Our friend here, the navigator, has found we are floating, or should I say slowly spinning, inside a relatively dense asteroid field. The ships engines may be burnt out but we have three shuttles which can be operated manually: we dare not trust their computers. Some of our own people have been helping to calibrate the navigational instruments and, thanks to them, we have discovered a habitable planet.”
While one of the shuttles went to survey the planet, the others were used to stop the colony ship’s spin, then to moor the giant vessel to a large asteroid. The crew and several of the Métis took turns to stand sentry in a shuttle to guard against collision with rogue rocks, which seemed to tumble randomly round each other in the weak and chaotic gravity fields produced by the asteroid field. The chief engineer wanted to dismantle the third shuttle and use the engine to move the colony ship, albeit very slowly, out of the asteroid field altogether. Captain Isoko ruled against him saying the safety of the colonists depended on using all the shuttles to get them to the planet.
The mass evacuation took seventeen trips using all three shuttles. The chief engineer, Mojo Blanc, cried on the final flight. His beloved ship had been stripped down to a hulk, a skeleton still chained to the huge asteroid. One of the astronomers predicted the collision with another large neighbour in the near future. The idea of ship being crushed between two such titans made the man weep.
The shipwrecked colonists called their new home Dakota. They settled on one of the large land masses in the northern hemisphere. The climate was cold but tolerable. Further south, storms and hurricanes raged throughout the equatorial regions. While the Métis and the ship’s crew built a settlement, a small team of astronomers explored the rest of the solar system. The Dakotan sun was very like Earth’s Sol but there the similarities stopped. They found no evidence of other planets: no rocky orbs or gas giants. They looked for an Oort cloud expecting to detect some of the trillions of comets that normally surround a sun at the edge of the solar system. They found nothing: the solar system was empty apart from the sun, Dakota and the asteroid field. These discoveries broke all the known rules for planetary formation and left the astronomers dumfounded.
The colonists also learnt that they had been catapulted to the fringe of the galaxy. They had travelled way beyond the Perseus arm. This explained why the Milky Way could only be seen in part of the night sky. Where it was missing, colonists were looking straight out into the inter-galactic void.
The astronomers had located a number of pulsars and, thus, pinpointed the exact position of their new home world. Dakota was fifteen thousand light years from Earth and even further from their original destination Lakota. To get back to Earth, even if they had a functioning faster than light ship, would take two years. Both the navigator and the chief engineer had no idea how they had managed to travel such an immense distance. Some of the ship’s officers suggested black holes or folds in realm space but it was all speculation.
A month after these unsettling discoveries, one of the shuttles disappeared. It was returning from another futile surveying mission when it was about to re-enter the atmosphere of Dakota. The pilot had been talking to ground control in Sioux City, the grandiose name the colonists had given their modest settlement. The break in transmission was abrupt: the pilot, Pierre Blanc had been reminiscing about an old girlfriend back on Earth, his co-pilot, Yvette, who happened to be his current wife, could be heard hooting with laughter in the background, then the voices stopped only to be replaced by faint static. The ground controller assumed it was a fault in the comm system. They waited for the craft to approach the landing strip to the east of the settlement but it did not arrive. The voice recording was played over and over. There was no indication why the shuttle had disappeared. The eight comms satellites in geosynchronous orbit around the planet were equipped with deep space radar but they failed to find any sign of the vessel.
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Captain Ewoma Isoko and Anton Mato looked over the records. The most telling was the log of the ground radar.
“The track of the shuttle zero-three is clear right up until this point,” said Captain Isoko, indicating a holographic projection showing the volume of space between Sioux City and the comms satellites.
“Could they have had a catastrophic explosion?” asked Mato, the Métis leader. “What if the gravity field propagators blew? The ship would have been blown to tiny pieces.”
“Even if they had been blown to atoms, the debris field would have shown up,” insisted the captain peering at the display. “No, the vessel just disappeared, right here.”
“We don’t have a choice then,” growled the bear like Métis leader. “First the mystery of the missing planets and absent Oort cloud, now this. If this planet is to be our home for the foreseeable future, we need to find some answers.”
“We must send up another shuttle to investigate,” said the captain.
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Shuttle zero-one was in near geosynchronous orbit as it approached the volume of space where the shuttle zero-three had vanished. The pilot, Sky Hawk Nanton, and the six scientists on board were engrossed with the multitude of readouts from the equipment crammed into the cockpit. The outside of the craft looked like a cybernetic Christmas tree. Every wavelength of light was being scanned and recorded. Gravnometric disturbances were analysed and logged. Many of the readings were being relayed to ground control at Sioux City. The scientists in orbit and those on the planet’s surface below scoured the data for anomalies but, in the end, it was the pilot who found what they were looking for.
“Ground control, there’s an object ahead bearing 260 slightly above our altitude,” said the pilot squinting through his forward observation window.
“Sky, there’s nothing there,” came the response from ground control. “Everything reads clear, get your eyes tested.”
“Ground control, there is something occluding the stars,” said Sky Hawk ignoring the jibes. “Visually it’s there and it’s getting bigger as we approach.”
A few moments went by before Sky Hawk continued his commentary. “It’s sort of dark grey and oval shaped. Either it’s enlarging itself or we are getting closer quicker than I thought. Ground control, this thing is va…”
Shuttle zero-one had disappeared off the radar scopes. Sky Hawk Nanton and the six scientists on board were never seen again on Dakota.
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Further examination of what they called the anomaly was undertaken using unmanned probes. Captain Isoko would not allow the third and last shuttle to be used. The grey oval shaped disc seemed to be fixed in space roughly 35 000 kilometers above the planet’s equator. It was not quite in geosynchronous orbit, the place where orbiting satellites can match the rotation of the planet below and so appear to be fixed in the sky. The anomaly was in a slightly lower orbit. However, the mysterious object behaved as if it was in geostationary orbit remaining persistently above the same spot on the planetary surface.
At first, the flat oval was observed passively. The object appeared to be roughly 600 metres high and 400 metres across and seemed to have a thickness of little more than a micron. It emitted no signals except a weak stream of photons. It had no radar profile and had no detectable mass.
The next phase of exploration saw the unmanned probes fire bursts of light, radio waves, laser beams and gravity pulses at the object. They all passed straight through the luminous lamina as if it was not there. Then engineers tried to simulate the disappearance of the two shuttles by setting the probes themselves on collision courses with the anomaly but they too simply passed straight through the ghostly apparition coming out into the vacuum of space on the other side.
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Two days later, on the planet’s surface, in the middle of a tropical hurricane, a survey team found a second doorwa
y. The grey oval of smoky nothingness was floating about a metre off the ground. Despite the howling winds, it did not drift or flutter but remained resolutely fixed in one position despite having no visible means of support. On close inspection the micron thick lens seemed to be made of tightly wrapped coils of grey matter twisted together. This ovoid was roughly 35 thousand kilometres directly below the similarly shaped anomaly in orbit.
The settlers quickly built a dome around the enigmatic object. The doorway was an exact replica of its counterpart hanging in space only much smaller. Like its bigger brother, the grey oval seemed completely impassive. It was indifferent to everything the scientist threw at it: radiation particles, laser beams, radio waves and even solid objects passed right through it. The impossibly thin disc could not be moved or even gripped.
The chief engineer, Mojo Blanc, brother of one of the missing pilots, grew increasingly frustrated at the lack of progress. Theory after theory was put forward to solve the conundrum of why two shuttles had disappeared after contact with the oval ghost in orbit. The scientists debated whether the grey oval was a cosmic string fragment, a black hole, a rupture in space or a trans-dimensional doorway. The problem with all the theories, no matter how far-fetched, was that there seemed to be no way of proving or disproving them without some response from the grey lamina. Every test devised fell at the first hurdle as the intangible disc remained obstinately silent.
Once again, Mojo was working through the night. He was measuring the diameter of the disc using a laser. To the human eye the tight coils of grey smoke seemed to be moving everywhere at the surface of the disc. The grey oval appeared to pulse. Yet as he measured the disc from one edge to the other, with an accuracy right down to a single wavelength, the distance registered on the meter was absolutely unwavering.
Mojo always bustled about his business. The series of test he had carried out resulted in a mess of cables and power conduits tangled on the floor underneath the grey oval. As Mojo returned from his console, at his customary half walk half run, he tripped and fell headfirst into the disc. Mojo disappeared.
Chapter 17: Trouble in Paradise
Of the four occupants of the luxury beachfront villa, only one, Becky Bhuna, had ever enjoyed a tropical holiday on Paradise before. The young court reporter had been to the planet on a cut price package tour with a group of work colleagues. Becky had helped choose the resort of Bliss, on the west coast of the smaller of the two continents that made up most of the land mass of the largely ocean world.
“I’d like to say it was all sun, sand and sex,” said Bhuna, sipping from a fruit cocktail, “but mostly it was just drink and drugs. My boyfriend was too pissed most of the time to take advantage and when he sobered up he told me he fancied my best friend.”
“Well, he can’t have seen you in that bikini,” said Lea Whey, the ex-librarian from Willow, exaggerating a lascivious leer at the buxom reporter.
“Lea, I’ve told you, stop begging,” retorted Becky. “If I let you sleep with me, you’d be under my spell forever. Then I’d never get rid of you.”
“Hey, give it a go and we’ll see who’s begging then,” said Lea grinning.
“Break it up, you two,” interrupted Yelena Kolowski, coming into the room from the sun soaked beach outside. “Your courtship rituals are really beginning to get on my nerves. Either you fancy each other or you don’t. Either way, just get on with it.”
“Oh, if only …” began Lea.
“…it were that simple,” concluded Becky. “Anyway, why ruin my luxury holiday by taking on an emotional commitment. Lea’s got more hang ups than a wardrobe.”
“Who said anything about commitment?” said Lea grinning and moving so close to Becky that their noses were almost touching. “Anyway, I’m getting dressed and going into the village for dinner. Wanna come, sexy.”
“Mmmm, depends what’s on the menu, you dork,” pulling up her towel like a wall between them then draping it over Lea’s head.
“Guys, I’m not sure it’s safe for us to spend too much time in the village,” said Yelena. “Stay here. Art can cook us up something nice.”
“Going out for dinner, it’s not just about nutrition, it’s …” said Becky
“ … the intellectual companionship,” interrupted Lea.
“ … the ethnic atmosphere!” said Becky firmly. “Look, Yelena, we were cooped up on board for nearly a week getting here. The ship says our fake IDs were accepted by the immigration control system. News of our raid on the Willow library won’t get here for another week yet, according to the postal schedule. So what’s the harm? And where is lover boy anyway?”
“He’s outside talking to the pod,” said Yelena. “And, yes, Art agrees with the ship. He says we should be perfectly safe in our anonymity for at least three days, if not more. It’s just me being over cautious. I guess it’s more suspicious to the locals if we stay holed up in the villa here, living off delivered groceries. Go, have fun, bring me back a doggy bag.”
“You sure I can’t persuade you and Art to come too?” asked Lea
“No, he’s deep in conversation with the pod,” said Yelena. “He might be some time. Then, I guess, I’ll find him something to do.”
“Now who’s talking about courtship rituals?” laughed Becky.
“Courtship is over,” said Yelena, winking at Becky. “I’m cementing the bond.”
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The pod, one of the seven intelligences, which collectively made up the entity called the ship, was disguised as a bulky notebook. Art was not sure if it was the same pod who orchestrated the raid on the Quintox library on Willow. Maybe the pods were interchangeable. The device insisted it was the exactly same consciousness as the intelligence on board the ship. Both Art and Yelena found this shared identity an uncomfortable notion and persuaded the sub-division of the entity to answer to the name ‘pod’ rather than ‘ship.’ That’s another issue we have to tackle, thought Art, we can’t go on calling the entities ‘ship’ or ‘pod,’ they need real names.
The major part of the entity, the other six pods on board the ship, had left the four human fugitives on Paradise, an Alliance tourist world, so it could mine a nearby asteroid belt.
“The ship needs to replenish its stores and make a few alterations,” said the pod. “We are also low on metals you use for currency: rhodium, platinum and gold. The whole process will require three or four days.”
“And you are sure we will be safe in the meantime?” asked Art “Our descriptions must have been broadcast over the postal network, that covers the Alliance territories as well as the Empire.”
“A description of you and Yelena may have reached here already but you’ve both changed your appearance.”
Art reached up to touch his short hair. He missed his red dreadlocks. He also preferred Yelena as a blonde, although she made a very attractive brunette.
“What about Becky and Lea, they are not disguised at all?”
A stellar chart sprang into the air above the pod. It showed a red route from Columbus to Willow and a long line stretching to Paradise.
“Our total journey time from Columbus was nine days,” said the ship proudly. “The fastest postal vessel would take eleven days if it flew here directly but the postal system goes via three hubs, here, here and here.” Three stars were highlighted in green and a fine web of connections joined them and other systems. “The postal network is efficient but slow. News of Becky and Lea will not reach here for at least a week. We are safe, Art.”
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On the other side of Paradise, in the capital city of Shangri-La, an immigration officer who also happened to be a covert Empire agent compared the retinal scans once again. A tall, lean man photographed entering the exclusive tourist resort of El Dorado was definitely wearing refractive contact lenses. However, the scan still showed the unique pattern of blood vessels in the back of his eyes. With a 99 percent certainty, they matched the retinal scan of Empire criminal and sought after fugitive, Arthur King.
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Immigration officer, Dick Gedding licked his lips as he read the message that accompanied the scan. A reward of fifty thousand credits was offered for the safe capture and delivery of the criminal pilot, by order of Colonel Garth. The mail shot included a long list of instructions. The Kargol intelligence service was thorough. Dick raised his comms bracelet and began making calls.
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Three days later, Lea sat on a lounger in the shade of shrubby palm bush talking with the pod. He was, at last, able to concentrate on the conversation. A scantily clad Becky had stopped playing beach volley ball with Yelena and had gone into the village with Art to buy provisions.
“So what would you consider the greatest impediment to the development of a galaxy wide culture by humankind?” said the machine as if it was asking him whether he preferred hot or iced tea.
“What do you mean, beyond the Great Plague?” asked Lea.
“The Great Plague caused the complete collapse of humanity’s interstellar commerce and prevented any exchange of cultural ideas,” said the mechanical voice. “But even before the calamitous events of the last millennium, the pan galactic culture was hardly homogeneous or harmonious.”
Lea was once again surprised at the language used by the machine they called the pod. The entity was cleverer than a head librarian and seemed to have an insatiable appetite for knowledge. “Look, pod, if you think it was bad back then, why do you need my view of pre-Plague history?”
“I am not being judgemental about pre-Plague humanity,” said the pod, “I am merely interested in your analysis of why pan galactic culture was so diverse and so often in conflict. And I crave your opinions because you are a professional historian.”
Leah was aware he was being flattered by the machine. “You mean, why does every other planet seems to be a haven for religious fanatics or a crackpot dictator?” said the ex-librarian.
