Sunborn

by Jeffrey Carver

We certainly do not, Bandicut thought. Not anytime soon, and certainly not dropped on us the way the last one was. They had just spent a pleasant evening in idyllic surroundings, eaten good food, and even been fitted with new clothes while their old ones were cleaned and mended. They had slept in comfort, and awakened to stroll through several carefully maintained environments, each in a different section of the station. Had all of that been a softening-up for this moment? He felt an echoing feeling from Antares, who stood at his side.

  “Hrah,” agreed Ik. The tall, bony Hraachee’an stroked his sculpted, blue-white head with long fingers and turned both ways to note the reactions of his companions. “After what we have been through, we thought we had earned some time to relax and...” Ik paused, raising his hands, at a loss for words.

  See to our own needs? Bandicut thought, completing Ik’s sentence. Yes. They had just saved a world. And had done plenty more before that.

  “I understand,” said Jeaves. The holo of the robot’s cylindrical body extended its arms toward them in an apparent gesture of conciliation. The sparkling eyes in the band around its head came together to become just two eyes. They softened. “But the need is urgent. You are the only ones in a position to—”

  John Bandicut shook his head. “We’ve heard that bef—” he started to say. But he was interrupted by a sudden shudder that passed through the ground, shaking them all. “What the—?”

  “Please wait while this passes,” Jeaves said sharply as the shaking continued. “This will likely be the equivalent of a mild seismic quake on a planetary surface. It should end soon.”

  “Uhhll, seismic quake?” said Antares, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I don’t understand.”

  Bandicut gripped her arm to steady her. “It means the ground shaking—maybe pretty hard.” Right now, it was starting to feel as if a freight train were passing by. “Jeaves, what’s causing this?” He looked up. Overhead, an enormous clear dome protected them from the vacuum of interstellar space. It reminded him of domes on Shipworld, a pretty solid place; but they were not on Shipworld. As the ground continued to quake, he wondered about the strength of this dome.

  Li-Jared swung his gaze from left to right. “What the hell is—” bwang “—going on, Jeaves?” he echoed, with a froglike twanging sound that seemed to emerge from deep in his throat.

  Over the rumbling, Jeaves said, “It’s a hypergravity shock wave. It’s part of the problem I was telling you about. We’ve been getting them intermittently for some time, but they’re growing in frequency and severity.”

  “When’s it going to stop?” Bandicut yelled, waving a hand uselessly against the dust now rising from the ground.

  “Soon, I hope,” Jeaves answered, raising his own voice to a shout. “It’s a disturbance in spacetime, propagating through n-dimensional space. Once it passes, I’ll show you where it came from.”

  Li-Jared was scowling, which on a Karellian face looked something like a leer. “This doesn’t have something to do with the Maw of the Abyss, does it? We thought we’d gotten away from the Maw!”

  “Not that we know of—” Jeaves began. His words cut off when the station shuddered harder, and the ground heaved violently, knocking all four of the company into the dust. The ground bucked in waves. Bandicut cursed, sliding on his elbows and knees, trying to protect Antares, who had fallen half under him. Jeaves shouted something he couldn’t hear. But he did hear the cracking of stone walls. Then he heard Jeaves’s words, amplified: “...into the shelter! Get into the shelter!”

  Bandicut could barely lift his head. Shelter? What shelter? Then he saw a row of blazing marker lights leading down into a deep cut in the ground...

  “Quickly!” Jeaves shouted, and Li-Jared yelled, “This way, Ik!” and hauled on the Hraachee’an. Bandicut did likewise with Antares; they couldn’t stand up to run, but together they crawled toward the opening, falling through after Ik and Li-Jared, and nearly on top of them.

  A light came on as a door slid shut. They untangled themselves enough to realize that they were still bouncing up and down, but less violently and on a padded surface. They were apparently in a sealed emergency shelter not much larger than the star-spanner bubble. Jeaves reappeared in their midst—a smaller projection—and asked, “Are you all right? Is anyone injured?” When no one seemed hurt, he continued, “You can ride out the shock wave here. This is the worst we have experienced—and I must tell you, it alarms me.”

  “My robots!” Bandicut called. “Are they all right?” The last time he had seen Napoleon and Copernicus, they’d been heading off to another sector of the station for servicing.

  Jeaves flickered. “We’re experiencing broken communication to that area. But the service bays are well protected.”

  /// They’re being seen to by the shadow-people.

  I’m sure they’re in excellent hands, ///

  the quarx murmured silently, in Bandicut’s head.

  /I know, I know./ The shadow-people, fractal-creatures who looked like torn shreds of darkness and appeared to have no material form, were the ones who seemed to keep things running on Shipworld—and apparently here, too. /But still.../

  “How much longer?” Li-Jared asked in a voice quavering from the vibration, and maybe from fear.

  Jeaves did not answer at once. The shaking seemed to lessen, as though it were being muffled. “We are trying to create a compensation field around the shelter, so we can talk,” Jeaves said finally.

  “When is it going to end?” Antares asked.

  “I don’t know. None has lasted this long before.”

  Bandicut squeezed Antares’s hand. The Thespi female leaned against him, her long auburn hair falling against his shoulder, and together they settled back against the padding to ride it out. He felt her anxiety vibrate through him along with the continuing shudders of the quake. He slipped an arm around her shoulder to reassure her.

  “You said you would tell us where this was coming from,” Ik said.

  “All right, then, let’s start,” Jeaves answered. “Please look up.” As he spoke, the light in the shelter dimmed, and the ceiling and upper walls seemed to disappear, replaced by the night sky. To Bandicut, the view looked like a clear sky on a dark night on the North American plain. A great, breathtaking swath of the Milky Way arched across the field of view—except that the star patterns were all unfamiliar. “I need to tell you something about the neighborhood this waystation is located in,” the robot said. “We are about twenty-four thousand light-years from the center of the galaxy.”

  “In the disk plane?” Li-Jared asked.

  “Yes. Now notice the nebula.” The view rotated about thirty degrees.

  It was hard not to notice the wispy, ethereal cloud of glowing gas and dust floating slightly offset from the band of the galaxy. Bandicut raised his hands and held them side by side. They didn’t quite cover the glowing cloud.

  “We are presently a few hundred light-years from the nebula,” Jeaves continued. “It is known locally as Starmaker. But you may know it by another name, John.”

  Everyone turned to look at Bandicut. He peered up at the cloud and the star patterns, then shook his head.

  “It is well known on your homeworld,” said the robot. “In fact, it is visible to the naked eye from your northern hemisphere. But we’re seeing it from what you would think of as the back side. Your astronomers call it the Great Orion Nebula.”

  Bandicut drew a sharp breath. “The Orion Nebula?” he whispered, stunned. “My God.” Of course he knew it; in the constellation Orion the Hunter, it was the middle “star” in the sword hanging from the Hunter’s belt. A profound feeling of homesickness overtook him. Not since his exile from Earth’s solar system had he seen anything that offered even this much connection with home. Now...he had a place again in the galaxy; he knew where he was.

  Jeaves was still talking. “The Orion Nebula, besides being located some fifteen hundred light-years to this side of John’s homeworld, Earth, is one of the gre
at star-forming nebulas of the Milky Way galaxy.”

  Bandicut breathed out again. /Fifteen hundred light-years. Still a long way home./

  /// Yes, but we’re closer now than before.

  Didn’t we guess Shipworld was about

  fifteen thousand light-years? ///

  /Yah./ It had been a wild guess, though. All they really knew was that the enormous artificial habitat known as Shipworld floated somewhere outside the Milky Way, above the galactic disk. He and the others had lived there for a comparatively short time, before being hurled back into the galaxy to the Neri world.

  He suddenly realized that Antares was holding a steadying hand on him.

  /// You’re trembling, John. ///

  Was he? “I’m fine,” he murmured aloud. But there was no hiding his feelings from the empathic Thespi. Antares could read his emotions perfectly.

  Jeaves continued. “I’m going to magnify the image now...” The view of the cloud swelled until it dominated the sky. “And enhance the colors and brightness...” The nebula took on a deeper rose hue, streaked with blue- and green-tinged gases. Individual stars within it became visible by the score, as well as a great many blobs of condensing matter that might one day become stars. The nebula seemed to unfold like a flower. Deep within its inner clouds was a cave with wispy, mysterious walls—and within that interior sanctum blazed four intensely bright stars. Bandicut thought he recognized the cluster from photos.

  Jeaves’s pointer winked in the sky, breaking the moment of wonder. “Human astronomers call this bright star-group the Trapezium. And just to the left of the Trapezium, here, is the area where the hypergrav shock waves seem to originate—somewhere in this star-birthing area. We have sent several probes to the region to investigate. None has returned.”

  “Hrrm, tell us more of these probes,” Ik said.

  “And tell us this station is holding together out there,” Li-Jared added. “I still feel a lot of shaking.”

  Jeaves paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “The station is holding together, yes. The shock wave is subsiding.” Bandicut pressed his hand against the padding; he still felt vibrations, but they were fading. “And to answer Ik’s question,” Jeaves went on, “three robotic missions have been launched from this station that I know of.”

  “And you say none returned?”

  “That’s correct. We don’t know why. The second transmitted some information, the others none at all.”

  Li-Jared jumped to his feet. “And you’re about to say you expect us to go next?”

  “Our robots seem insufficient for the job,” said Jeaves. “Stars may be dying there. And judging by the gravity waves, the situation is deteriorating rapidly.”

  “Well, that really makes me want to fly into it!” Li-Jared snapped. He flicked his thumbs and fingers against each other in a gesture of sarcasm.

  “I do not ask for a commitment just now,” Jeaves said. “I merely ask that you listen. Please.”

  Li-Jared growled, but sat back down.

  “Whatever is happening in this star nursery,” Jeaves said, “may soon have far-reaching effects, well beyond the nebula. The shock waves we have been experiencing are just the immediate symptom, and they are dangerous enough. But they likely signal far graver dangers.” He paused a moment. “The quake has passed. As soon as we can run some system and structural checks, we’ll get you out of this shelter. We have a visitor you need to meet.”

  “Visitor?” Bandicut asked.

  Jeaves was silent a moment. Then: “Just a few more checks.” Then: “Good.” The door that had sealed them into the shelter slid open with a hiss. Jeaves’s holo winked out, and his voice rolled in from outside the shelter. “You may come out now.”

  Chapter 3

  Ed and the Stars

  Emerging from underground, they found the surroundings as they had left them, except for a jagged crack in one of the stone walls and a slowly settling cloud of dust. “Looks like the place is still standing,” Bandicut muttered.

  Before anyone could answer, a clattering sound came from around the stone wall to their left. A moment later, a jointed metal robot trotted into view. It looked a little like an upright praying mantis, with a spring in its two-legged gait. “Napoleon!” Bandicut shouted in delight. “You’re all right! Where’s Copernicus?” Even as he spoke, Copernicus rolled up behind Napoleon. Copernicus was shaped like a short barrel on its side, propelling itself on four wheels that looked like fat, horizontal ice cream cones. The tapping sound of his greeting lifted Bandicut’s heart. The two robots had traveled with him since leaving Triton, back in the solar system. They were now his oldest friends.

  “H’lo, Cap’n,” answered Napoleon. “We left the upgrade center to check on you. Are you all right?”

  “We’re fine.”

  “Guess who we saw in the maintenance section,” Napoleon continued. “The shadow-people!”

  “I heard,” Bandicut said. “Listen, did you two get any useful readings on that quake?”

  Copernicus tapped. “Cap’n, it was very severe. If we experience any more of them, I would be concerned for—”

  The robot was interrupted by a sound like a soft rumble of timpani. “Is that another quake?” Li-Jared squawked, looking around worriedly.

  “No,” Jeaves said. “That is our visitor.”

  Antares pointed. “Look.”

  Something was creeping toward them over the desert floor. It looked like an enormous fried egg, sunny-side-up. Its motion was slow but not quite continuous. When Bandicut blinked, it seemed to surge forward with a twinkle. It was about a meter across—purple, with an orange yolk. “What the hell is it?” Bandicut asked. “Is it making that rumbling noise?”

  “I believe so,” said Ik, approaching it cautiously. “Do you suppose it’s talking?”

  There was another rumble. “Bzzzz-rawl-l-lp...”

  The shape began to creep partway up the wall of a stone outcropping. “Brrr-huup-p...” A breathier sound came this time, and with it the thing’s top surface vibrated.

  “Jeaves?” Bandicut asked quietly. “Is this thing alive?”

  “Yes,” Antares said. “It is.”

  Bandicut gave her a startled glance. “You sense it?”

  “Yes. It is aware of us.”

  The quarx was stirring in Bandicut’s mind.

  /// I think it might be aware of me, actually. ///

  Antares had the same thought, apparently. She pointed as the being moved with a twinkling shuffle toward Bandicut. “I believe, uhhll, that it wants to make contact with you, Bandie John Bandicut.”

  Bandicut swallowed. “Me?” He turned. “Napoleon? Copernicus? You getting any readings from this thing?”

  “Trying, Cap’n.” Tap tap. “It is difficult to view with sensors, for some reason.”

  “Haa-loooo-p.” That was from the fried egg.

  “You think it’s really trying to speak to us?” Bandicut crouched close to it. “Hello! Can you understand us?” The fried egg was near enough now that he could see faint pulsations along its “white,” while the “yolk” appeared to be rotating in changing directions.

  “Trryyy-ng-ng-ng...”

  The quarx spoke softly.

  /// Perhaps if you touch it with your hand,

  the stones could help with the translation. ///

  Bandicut shuddered.

  /// I sense no danger. ///

  He looked up. “You think it would be safe to touch that thing?” he asked Ik.

  “Safe? Hrrm—”

  “John Bandicut, please do not do anything foolish,” Antares said. “You may be only a human—” and she whistled, a Thespi approximation of a chuckle “—but I would hate to lose you.”

  Bandicut rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d hate to lose me, too. But Charlie thinks the stones might be able to...” He paused and glanced at his wrists, where the two tiny, embedded translator-stones pulsed. The stones had been given to him by an alien device back on Triton. Witho
ut them, he would not be able to communicate with his companions here, and he might have died a hundred different ways by now. He looked up at his robots. “Napoleon, how’s it look? Any sign of dangerous radiation or reactive chemicals?”

  “Multispectrum EM radiation, Cap’n. Nothing harmful that I can see. Spectrographic scanning shows...no clear chemical signatures at all.”

  “Huh?”

  “I cannot explain. It does not seem to occupy physical space. But neither does it look like a hologram or other image. I must await further information.”

  Bandicut blinked. “Yah. Let’s see if we can get some.” The thing had stopped moving. Still crouching, he edged close enough to touch it. He felt Antares’s hand on his shoulder, reassuring him. Or perhaps using him as an empathic conduit.

  The egg-surface quivered as his hand approached. Its purple skin looked slick, with oily, iridescent ripples spreading outward from the point directly beneath his hand. Would it dissolve his skin?

  /// You’ve seen too many movies...///

  “Maybe.” His hand touched the surface. It felt cool and slippery...

  A muffled gasp from Antares startled him. “Are you—?” he began, and then a wave of voices hit the inside of his skull, layer after layer. Or maybe...a single voice, full of harmonics and dissonance.

  His translator-stones spoke softly. *Attempting to filter and translate.*

  He felt a shuddering sensation—not his shudder, but the sounds being squeezed through translation routines, like fruit through a juicer. Suddenly he was surrounded by fractured images of light and dark, as though he had been dropped into a space full of broken mirrors. Mountains: there were jagged mountains of ochre and maroon. The image shattered and came together again, changed. Canyons now, shifting and re-forming. Images of this creature’s world, deciphered by the translator-stones? The images continued breaking and reassembling, tumbling over one another—dizzying cliffs, broken plains, and layers of harsh, blazing light.

  The translator-stones did something else, and Bandicut’s attention shifted to a new sound, welling up like a choir. He could almost make out...not words, exactly...but sounds distantly suggestive of a human voice. He strained to hear.