Sunborn

by Jeffrey Carver

  She tensed again.

  “—is not you. Or even me, personally.” Lamarr paused, to let his words sink in. “It is the organization that made the discovery of the translator possible—the Mining Expeditionary Force—at least until some greater body decides differently. However, since MINEXFO is a multinational and multiworld consortium, there aren’t too many greater bodies out here.”

  “I understand that, but—”

  “And I am, currently, the chief representative of MINEXFO in the vicinity. That means I’m in charge until someone more senior arrives on the scene. And since we’re now on a three-month journey from Neptune to Earth, it would seem I’m going to have this job for a while.”

  Julie stared back at him. Especially since you timed our departure to make it impossible for a competing team to join us. Yes.

  Lamarr nodded, then rose and peered through the window into the cargo hold. The crew were just moving the last of the cargo away from the translator’s crate. An olive-complexioned man, who seemed to be in charge, saw Lamarr and thumbed the intercom. “Do you want us to begin opening the artifact crate?”

  “Not yet,” said Lamarr. “We need to get our instruments and recording equipment in place.” He turned. “Ms. Stone, will you please oversee the setup of equipment?”

  “Of course. Do we know where the equipment is?”

  Lamarr asked the crewman, who pointed to three shipping pods stacked beside the translator’s container. “We were told to keep those boxes with the artifact. I don’t know what’s in them.”

  “May I come in?” Julie asked.

  The crewman gestured toward the pressure hatch. There was a loud click, and the door slid open. She stepped into the cargo bay. Lamarr called after her, “I’ll send some people to help you. Call me when you’re set up. But don’t open the artifact until I’m back. Understood?”

  Julie nodded and turned her attention to the cargo. The olive-skinned crewman followed Lamarr with his gaze, then said to Julie, “Would you like a hand with that stuff? I’m Ashmar, and this is Jose.”

  She shook hands with both. “Can we clear some more space around the translator to set up equipment?”

  “Well,” said Ashmar, “I guess we could stack some of this stuff on the other side of the bay. But do you mind if I ask you something first?”

  “What’s that?”

  Ashmar hooked a thumb toward the translator. “What’s in that thing? We’ve heard a lot of rumors, but no one seems to know. Do you?”

  Julie pondered how best to answer. “Let’s just say—it’s extraterrestrial, it’s intelligent, and sometimes it communicates. As to what it is, no, we don’t have a clue.” As she spoke, she saw Ashmar’s eyes shift downward to the stone glinting in her right wrist. It was no secret back at the station how she had gotten the stones. How could it seem anything but weird to him? Did he wonder if she was being controlled by the device?

  Sometimes I wonder myself.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “Maybe we’ll get some answers. Shall we get started?”

  *

  By the time they’d cleared the area, the extra help had arrived in the person of her roommate. “Feeling better?”

  “Yah.” Arlene flashed an unsteady grin. “I just needed a little time to get my feet under me again. What do you want me to do?”

  Julie pointed to a set of three black, heavy-duty shipping cases. “Let’s get the lights set up, for starters.” She turned in place, surveying the area. “We need to space them as evenly as possible. The translator throws light in unusual ways. You’ve seen that in the holos, right?”

  “I saw something in the holos,” Arlene said, lifting a bar lamp out of the first case. “I couldn’t really tell what I was seeing. So...what do you think it’ll do when you open the container?”

  “I have no idea. I just know we want it on holo.”

  Jose set another case in front of them. He seemed nervous working around the crate. “Relax,” Julie said. “Can you set this light stand up over there?”

  Jose nodded, but shifted his eyes toward the crate. “What if this thing doesn’t like Mr. Lamarr bossing it around?”

  Julie saw Arlene’s eyebrows twitch at the question and stifled a laugh. “I guess that’s a risk we’ll have to take.” She heard the clearing of a throat behind her, and turned to see Henry Cohn. “Hi. Here to help?”

  “Actually,” Henry said, “I’m here to ask what your plans are for opening the container. The captain wants to know. You know, in case it—” He coughed discreetly.

  “What? Blows up? Or decides to take over the ship?”

  “Well...yes.”

  “My plan,” Julie said, tightening a holocam onto its tripod, “is to open the container very carefully. If the translator wanted to blow up or take over the ship, I suspect it could do that anytime it wanted.”

  “Then why take it out of the crate at all?”

  Julie glanced quizzically at him. “Doesn’t it seem more courteous? I suppose it could talk to us from in there, but it is, after all, a fellow sentient. Plus, we want to study it.”

  Henry rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he walked away.

  *

  They broke for dinner, sending word to Lamarr that they were nearly ready. Julie sat at a long table in the dining room with Arlene, Henry, Ashmar, Jose, her chicken teriyaki and rice, and her own thoughts. She barely noticed the conversation, until Arlene said, “Julie?” She looked up and blinked. “I was afraid we’d lost you,” Arlene said with a chuckle.

  Julie forced a smile. “No, I’m just...preoccupied.” Which was putting it mildly. Her stomach was in knots as she contemplated opening the translator—not for another meeting with her, but to introduce it to Lamarr. Was he right? Was she afraid of losing what leverage she had over the translator’s fate? Things were going to change, that seemed certain.

  Lamarr appeared in the doorway. “Everyone ready to go?”

  Julie had just taken a large mouthful, so Henry answered. “It’s all set up, Dr. Lamarr. As soon as we finish eating, I think we can start. Is that right, Ms. Stone?”

  Lamarr looked sharply at both of them. “You can eat later. What are we waiting for?”

  Julie sighed, drained her soymilk, and stood up. “All right. If we’re in a hurry, let’s go see if it’s in a mood to talk.” Lamarr’s eyes seemed to narrow, but he said nothing as Julie excused herself past him.

  Five minutes later Julie, Lamarr, Henry, and Arlene stood together in front of the translator’s crate. The recorders were running. Jose and Ashmar kept their distance, ready to assist if needed. Even before anyone touched the crate, Julie felt the tickle of the translator in her mind.

  *We are glad you have come.*

  Julie relaxed a little. /There are others with me. Are you aware of them?/

  *Yes. It is time we spoke. All of us. Can we trust the others?*

  Julie blinked in surprise and tried to maintain her composure. /I...think so. I think you have to try./

  *Very well. Then we will try. There is much for us to discuss.*

  She must have reacted visibly, because out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lamarr glance at her questioningly. She nodded as she gathered her thoughts, and finally said, “It seems...the translator is eager to speak to us. To all of us.” She faced the sealed crate again. She felt a more expansive presence in her thoughts, then heard in a well-modulated voice:

  “Greetings to all of you. Thank you for providing transport. Is it possible to open this container, so that we may see each other?”

  Had that sound come from her stones? Julie glanced around. “My God!” Arlene said. Behind her, Jose was crossing himself, and Ashmar’s mouth was open in wonder. Henry looked as if he were debating whether he’d actually heard something.

  Even Lamarr couldn’t conceal his surprise. “All right,” he said, “let’s get the crate open.” Henry and Julie stepped up to remove the outer cover. It was secured by three large clamps on either side. They each took
a side and released the clamps, then lifted off the protective front panel and set it aside. The translator was now visible, pulsing, behind the archival glass of the primary case.

  “Would you like us to open the inner case?” Julie asked the translator.

  “Yes, please.”

  Julie turned to find the toolbox carrying the wrenches that would loosen the large bolts on the front of the case. She heard a gasp from Arlene, and looked back. The bolts were slowly turning, backing out of the threaded holes on their own. They dropped with a clink to the deck, and Julie and Henry—exchanging glances—lifted the heavy glass front from the case. Now there was nothing between them and the alien device.

  To her surprise, Julie found the translator less overwhelming here, in a crate, than it had been in the ice cavern on Triton. And yet, as she stared at the revolving, iridescent and black spheres, she felt herself drawn, more than ever, by its presence. She felt a sudden personal connection that had been impossible in a large, frozen cavern where she had been encased in a heavy spacesuit. She had to remind herself to breathe. She stepped back slightly, so that they were all gathered in a semicircle in front of the translator.

  “It’s different in person,” Arlene breathed. “It doesn’t look solid, exactly, does it?”

  Julie shook her head. “It seemed to mass about five hundred kilograms when we measured it in the cavern. But in flight, I was told, it barely registered any inertial mass at all. Is that still true?”

  “That’s right,” said Henry. “We measured it three times for the mass calculations for the ship’s acceleration.”

  Lamarr spoke finally, in a gravelly voice that only just betrayed uncertainty. “These are questions,” he said, “to which we may find answers soon. Ms. Stone, does the artifact appear here as it did on Triton?”

  “As far as I can tell.” Without taking her eyes off the alien device, she said, “May we speak to you now?”

  The answer was startlingly resonant. “We sense a variety of thoughts. Could we know the identities of those who stand before us?”

  “Of course.” Julie hesitated, wondering if she should introduce Lamarr first, or last. She decided to simply go in order, around the semicircle. “This is Lieutenant Henry Cohn, whose job is to help run things aboard the ship. Next is Dr. Keith Lamarr, Special Envoy of MINEXFO, the organization that is...currently responsible for your safe transport.”

  *And you answer to Dr. Lamarr?*

  “Y—” she began, then realized that last question had come inside her head. /Yes,/ she said silently. /I answer to him./ Speaking aloud again, she introduced Arlene, then turned to include the cargo-hold workers, in the background.

  Lamarr stepped forward as though to cut off the last introductions, but she pretended not to notice and finished naming Jose and Ashmar. “I think Dr. Lamarr would like to speak to you directly. Is that all right?”

  “Of course. Dr. Lamarr?”

  Lamarr spoke in a gravelly voice. “Welcome to our ship, the Park Avenue. And greetings, on behalf of Humanity. I confess—there are many things we’re hoping to ask you.”

  “We are eager to exchange knowledge,” the translator said, its black and iridescent balls squirming hypnotically in the light of the holocams.

  “Excellent!” Lamarr said, tapping his notepad. “May I proceed with some questions now?”

  There was a momentary silence. Then: “We will try to answer your questions. But first we must advise you—there is urgent business we must discuss.”

  “Urgent business? What sort of business?”

  The translator seemed to spin faster. “Your homeworld is in danger. Grave danger. It is beyond your technology to protect it—but if you will work with us, we can help. Will you do this?”

  Lamarr’s expression of triumph vanished, replaced by astonishment and dismay.

  The knot hit Julie’s stomach again as she remembered the translator’s words to her, months ago. And she found herself holding her breath again, waiting for the translator to explain itself at last.

  Chapter 17

  Aftershocks

  In the two days since the encounter with the dying star, Bandicut and his companions on The Long View/One Way Trip had spent most of their time recovering, sorting things out mentally and emotionally, and trying to understand what they were going to be doing next. It was clear that Jeaves didn’t really know what to expect. From *Brightburn* they had learned—or they hoped Deep had learned—the location of *Nick*, the star that was in most immediate danger. But they still had no idea what to do when they got there.

  Ik had talked little since the encounter, and Antares was visibly worried, sitting with him for extended periods. “I feel a great sadness in him,” she murmured to Bandicut as she touched Ik’s wrist. The three of them had been in the common room for an hour, but Bandicut, hungrily consuming a grilled cheese sandwich, was the only one eating. The Hraachee’an was staring down at the table, lost in either pain or meditation. If it weren’t for the fact that he answered—briefly—when spoken to, Bandicut would have worried that he’d gone into some kind of autistic state. “I think he’s trying to find his way through the star’s trauma,” Antares said. “I think it may have taken him back to his own star’s death.”

  Bandicut stopped eating for a moment and gazed at his friend. “Is there anything we can do for him?”

  Antares sighed softly. “I wish I knew.”

  *

  To Ik, the explosion of *Brightburn* had been like a flash of fire across the soul, an eruption of the past into the present. Hraachee’a, too, burned in his mind, his own sun incinerating his homeworld.

  It was a mad, terrible dive into the exploding blue sun, urged on by two fiery gems in his head. He had no idea what the things were. But moments after his ship had tumbled through a debris cloud, he’d felt a sudden electric twinge in his temples. Removing his helmet, he tried to inspect for injury by studying his reflection on the inside of the cockpit canopy. He saw two glowing stones, one embedded on each side of his head. The stinging ceased, but when he rubbed and picked at them, he felt a wordless rebuke.

  Shortly after, they began talking to him, telling him his only hope of escaping death was to fly his ship into the fury of the billowing sun. He thought he had lost his mind. It was terrible. Terrible! But he had little choice, since his ship was tumbling out of control. Had he seen other Hraachee’ans do the same? Had they somehow survived? If so, where were they? Where was his world? A glowing cinder now. Nothing but a cinder.

  And now another dying star. Did this one have planets? Did it have people, too? He thought a long time about those who might have lived on planets circling *Brightburn*, and he wept for them.

  Ik was aware of John Bandicut at his side, and Antares. He heard Bandicut saying, “Does anyone know where Li-Jared has gotten to?”

  Without knowing why, Ik suddenly found his voice, and focus in his eyes. He clacked his mouth, once. “I believe, hrrm, that Li-Jared has gone to speak with the AI.”

  “Oh, hell,” said Bandicut.

  *

  Somewhere in the rafters of The Long View, in the interstices between the various dimensions of n-space that constituted the structure of the ship, Delilah the halo was resting and thinking...and frustrated. Frustrated and a little angry. They had just fled from a situation that might have brought useful knowledge, if they had just stayed a little longer. The matter-beings on this ship were too afraid of taking risks. What was the point of undertaking the mission, if they were going to flee every time things got a little dangerous?

  Granted, matter-life was more vulnerable than she was. And she, in her halo-phase, was less able to slip through the fractional dimensions spying out information than she might have in her shadow-phase. Despite all that, she knew they could have spent more time with that star, and learned not just about the star but about the strange forces acting on it. And the more they knew about that, the better their chances of intelligently carrying out the mission. It was all embed
ded in the star’s memories; Delilah could feel it. But she hadn’t had time to do anything about it, before Jeaves and the AI decided to flee to safety out of deference to the matter-life.

  So what now? After all that, the matter-life seemed fractured and disjointed, trying to put pieces of themselves back together. But the robots, now—they appeared to be on to something. Delilah was watching them with interest. And meanwhile, she was scanning forward along the path through n-space. There was something interesting ahead, though she couldn’t tell yet exactly what. But surely there would come a chance to find out.

  *

  Li-Jared, picking his way through obscure corridors of the ship, could not stop muttering to himself as he walked. How much longer could they continue with Jeaves and the AI in control? It was ridiculous. Their present course seemed certain to lead to disaster. Look at what had happened. They’d nearly been toasted in the explosion of a star, and Ik still hadn’t recovered. It looked as if it was up to him to find a way to wrest control of the mission from the AIs. He might not be ready for full mutiny yet, but he was damn well going to lay the groundwork in case it came to that.

  Now, if he could just locate that input node again, the one Copernicus had led him to before. He hadn’t been able to find either of the robots; they seemed totally absorbed in some kind of research with the ship’s library, and never seemed available when he needed them.

  Rounding a bend, Li-Jared came to a yellow-glowing, three-way intersection. This didn’t look familiar at all. He looked right, left. He turned left. The passage began curving sharply, as though it were going to loop back to the other side of the intersection. So where are we? After following the curve for what felt like two full circles he arrived, not back at the intersection, but at the entrance to a chamber. Control station? Drawing a breath, he ducked through the entrance and peered around.

  Well, it looked like a control station. He was in a small room, surrounded by surfaces that glimmered with patches of variously colored light. There were some recesses that resembled the recessed contacts he’d put his hands into, the last time he connected with the shipboard AI. Were they the same? He scratched his chest for a moment, before deciding that there was only one way to find out. He felt a moment of doubt, because he had told no one of his intentions.