Echoes of Earth

by Sean Williams

  “What does that all mean, Kingsley?” said Alander.

  “It means that this thing can make us immortal!”

  “Is that true?” Alander asked the Gifts.

  “Yes,” they replied. The suit had crawled from Alander’ s body and back into its display position. “Immortal and healthy. That is the ultimate aspiration of anyone occupying a physical body.”

  “Is that what the Spinners believe we should do?” Hatzis asked.

  “We are unaware of our builders’ intentions,” said the Gifts when Alander relayed the question. “Everything they have left you is for you to use at your own discretion. Nobody can tell you what you should or should not use here. It is up to you alone to decide what is best for you.”

  Hatzis had carried that thought with her through her rest period. “Up to you alone. Did they mean humanity as a whole, or were they referring just to Peter? She sincerely hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

  * * *

  When she awoke, Nalini Kovistra and Donald Schievenin informed her that they were ready to test the faster-than-light communicator.

  This was a big moment for the two physicists. They had been allowed extra time with Alander to understand how, perhaps, the communicator might work. However, apart from telling Alander that it was capable of instantly communicating with any similar device within a two hundred light-year radius, the Gifts refused to elaborate on just what principles operated it. They hadn’t even told them where it was. As was becoming increasingly the case, it would be left up to the humans to figure out over the course of time.

  Or maybe, Hatzis considered, the Gifts simply did not have that information. They had instructed them on the installation of a software interface between the Tipler and the communicator and helped them with their understanding of just how to work the complex controls. Beyond that, though, everything was a mystery, and Hatzis imagined that was precisely how the Spinners preferred it. The Gifts were programmed to impart only information the Spinners felt the humans were ready to deal with at that moment in time.

  “We can test whenever you’re ready,” said Kovistra, her dark, Indian features intensely focused on the task before her.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” said Hatzis.

  Kovistra nodded thoughtfully. “I doubt there will be any risk to us,” she said.

  “Nevertheless, I advise caution,” said Sivio.

  “You don’t trust the Spinners, even now?” said Hatzis.

  “It’s not that,” he said. “We still know so little about their technology. Testing such a device so soon could well prove dangerous to the ship.”

  “I disagree,” said Samson. “The thing was put there for us to use, like everything else here. It’s not going to hurt us. In fact, it’ll probably help us. If we can contact Earth—”

  “There’s no guarantee we’ll be able to do that,” cautioned Kovistra. “They’d need to be using a similar device as this, or else they simply won’t pick it up.”

  “But they might have one. Who knows what developments have been made in the last hundred years? And if they do have the technology to receive the signals, then we’ll finally be back in contact with Earth. As far as I can see, that can’t be a bad thing.”

  “But do we even have the right to play around with this stuff?” persisted Sivio.

  Although Hatzis agreed with Samson, she was still trying not to get her hopes up too high.

  “I have the power to authorize testing of alien machinery,” she said to her physicists. “Providing I put the safety of the mission first, and in absence of word from Earth, UNESSPRO Special Regulations Section 14 gives me the right to decide for myself whether or not the mission is at risk. And as far as I’m concerned, there has been no indication that any of these gifts will be anything but beneficial to us. Besides which, if we don’t use it, I can’t foresee us ever being in a position to get word to or from home.” She locked stares with Kovistra for a significant moment. “But do not take any chances. One message, two repeats, and that’s it. Then you shut it down. If there’s a reply from anyone, we’ll discuss what to do then. Okay?”

  “Understood.” Kovistra had set up a virtual control room for the communicator that seemed to consist entirely of data screens. Previously stable configurations and images began to move. “Donald, did you hear that? We have confirmation. Are those patches stable?”

  “Yes. The Gifts may not be talking to us, but their machinery is.”

  “Take us to the pretransmission phase.” For the benefit of her observers, Kovistra explained, “We don’t know what this will do, to be honest, but it seems part of the process. Something has to warm up, perhaps, or...”

  Barely had Schievenin activated the software when the feed from the gifts flickered for a moment.

  “Problem, Nalini?” said Hatzis.

  “This is across the board, Caryl,” said Sivio, busily flicking through reports and images. “There’s been a power surge around the orbital ring, very similar to the one when the building activity ceased. And...” He paused, listening. “The doors have stopped working.”

  Hatzis was seeing confirmation of this through her own channels. The Hub had turned dark; all of the doors remained shut.

  “Do we wake Alander and get him to ask the Gifts?” said Sivio.

  He clearly wanted her to say yes. “I see no reason,” she replied. “The behavior is unexpected but probably not dangerous. It might just be a safeguard of some kind. Maybe the communicator drains power, and shutting down the Hub prevents anyone from being in transit between spindles when the drain begins. Nalini, continue.”

  Kovistra nodded and returned to her work. “Donald, activate the communicator for primary transmission. Send at your discretion.”

  Hatzis didn’t know exactly what her physicists did after that. It wasn’t her job to know. Whatever they did, though, it caused every scanner of every wavelength aimed at the gifts to suddenly white out. For a few seconds, all she could see was static.

  “What the hell...?”

  “Message sent,” said Schievenin.

  Kovistra seemed shaken but continued as though nothing had happened. “Donald, power down for a moment. Let’s see what happened before we try a repeat.”

  Normal telemetry was gradually restored, with the satellites closest to the Tipler returning to normal the fastest. But that was just an illusion, Hatzis realized. Transmissions from those farther out were simply taking longer to arrive than those close by.

  “All our instruments were hit at the same time,” said Sivio, “regardless of where they were in the system. Whatever that was, I think we can safely assume it was ftl.”

  “Impressive,” said Schievenin, his long face even more serious than usual, with his eyes reflecting the wonder that everyone must have been feeling right then. “Do we try again?”

  Hatzis didn’t give him an answer immediately. Instead, she turned to Kovistra. “How will we know if we’ve received a reply?” she asked.

  “The communicator tells us,” said Kovistra. “As near as I can figure it. From what the Gifts told Peter, there should be no missing it.”

  “If it’s anything like that first transmission,” said Sivio, “I’ll believe you.”

  Hatzis noted alarmed communications from other members of her crew. However, for all the surprise and alarm, nothing had been damaged.

  “Okay, Nalini,” she said after some consideration. “Try the repeats. Jayme, warn everyone this time. We know what to expect now, and it doesn’t seem to be doing us any actual damage, but I want them kept posted on everything we’re doing here. Send the message out twice more, and then we’ll see if we get any replies.”

  She settled back to watch Kovistra and Schievenin in action. They worked smoothly, calmly together, as though fiddling with a crystal radio set rather than some mysterious alien artifact. The message they had composed was similarly workaday, simply identifying the source of the transmission and requesting a reply. Nothing world shattering. Bu
t if they did receive a reply, that would change everything.

  Hatzis found herself silently praying that it would work—as everyone else must have been, she imagined. Now that the possibility existed that they might be able to talk to the people back home again, she was surprised at how much she wanted it to come true. It had never even been an option before now, so she had kept her desires to reestablish contact with Earth carefully in check. It wouldn’t do to be entertaining such desires; disappointment and despondency lay down that path.

  It wasn’t that she felt she wasn’t qualified to command the mission, either. She was, and she thought she was doing a good job at it, too. But she wasn’t enjoying it. The responsibility and workload were just too great under these circumstances. So the idea of being able to once again shuck the ultimate decision onto UNESSPRO back home was a pleasing one for her. Which was why, she thought, she had unwittingly crossed her fingers as they prepared to send the message a second time.

  Again the instruments grayed as the communicator sent its message out into space. Or through space? she wondered. Around it? However it happened, this time they were prepared for it, and better able to measure what happened.

  “I think we’ve nailed the source of the transmission,” said Sivio. “It’s not the Hub, as we assumed.” He paused uncertainly. “It’s the entire structure. It appears to be acting like a giant antenna.”

  The revelation astonished Hatzis, although perhaps it shouldn’t have. It went a long way in explaining a few things that had thus far remained a mystery, such as the ring itself. Up until now, they had found no actual purpose for the ring, except as a possible medium for the instantaneous transport system. But it made sense that it was in fact a component of the communicator itself, albeit a component over thirty thousand kilometers across.

  It also made sense of something else, too.

  “The eleventh gift,” she muttered, finally understanding.

  “It has to be,” Sivio agreed. “The Hub, the Library, the Gallery, the Science Hall, the Lab, the Dark Room, the Map Room, the room of the Gifts, the Dry Dock, and the Surgery—that makes ten. And they said there were eleven. This must be it.”

  Hatzis nodded slowly as the third and final transmission was sent. She had previously assumed that the artificial gravity in the spindles had been the eleventh gift, but this seemed more logical. This was something they could use.

  “Transmission concluded,” said Kovistra. “Powering down permanently. Well done, Donald. The software performed beautifully.”

  He smiled. “As far as we can tell,” he said. “I guess all we can do now is wait to see what comes back.”

  “If something comes back, that is,” said Kovistra. “My guess is—”

  But she got no further.

  Half the screens in Hatzis’s display flickered as an energy surge rolled around the ring encircling Adrasteia. What did come through indicated vibration of some kind, as though the spindles were experiencing an earthquake. Droids skittered across slippery floors, trying to maintain balance; Alander stirred from his sleep in the Dark Room; every picture blurred as the vibration peaked.

  Then, just as suddenly, it died away, fading with a faint rumble into the background before disappearing altogether.

  “What the fuck was that?” Alander asked, rubbing his eyes at the droid that had come to check on him.

  “We’re not sure,” said Hatzis distractedly, watching the crew frantically trying to work out what had happened. “Sivio? What have you got?”

  “We think it came from the ring,” Sivio concluded after a minute of consultation with the others.

  “But what caused the vibration?” Hatzis pressed, keeping a close check on her excitement.

  “It’s an antenna,” said Kovistra. “Presumably it picks up signals as well as transmits them.”

  “Are you telling me that the communicator registered a reply to our message? Already?”

  “I’m not telling you anything yet. Maybe it was just noise, or an echo. Or perhaps the signal we received was simply too faint.”

  “Too faint? That vibration had enough energy to shake apart a small moon!”

  “I’ve analyzed the vibrations,” said Schievenin. “It doesn’t seem to contain a signal of any kind. Nothing the Tipler recognizes, anyway.”

  Hatzis’s excitement ebbed. She didn’t need to add the obvious: nothing from Earth.

  “Is there any way to tell where it came from?” put in Sivio.

  Kovistra shook her head, frowning. “No,” she said. “Maybe our software patches aren’t working properly. I don’t know. We’ll try to look into it.”

  “Do so,” Hatzis ordered. “And if you learn anything at all, I want to know about it immediately, okay?”

  Kovistra was about to turn back to her work when she hesitated. “Sorry, Caryl,” she said. “I know you really wanted this to work.”

  Hatzis just nodded, thinking, More than you’ll ever know, Nalini. More than you’ll ever know.

  1.2.2

  “Caryl, I want Peter to test-fly the ship in Spindle Six.”

  In the wake of the communicator test, Alander had been unable to return to sleep. He had floated in darkness, restless and irritable, for half an hour. Cleo Samson’s voice suddenly cutting across the silence was, therefore, a welcome interruption for him.

  “You want what?” Out of the blackness emerged an illusion of the Tipler’s survey manager, one of the very few times she had appeared to him “in the flesh.” She was a short woman, which matched her hair and temper, but there was strength in her shoulders and hands. Her gaze was direct, like her manner.

  Samson appeared also, forming an equilateral triangle between the three of them. “It makes sense,” she said. “We need something concrete to back up what the Gifts are saying. I mean, for all we know, the Spinners could just be playing mind games with us.”

  “The communicator—”

  “Wasn’t exactly what I would call an unqualified success.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” agreed Hatzis. “Which is why I’ll need more than just your suspicions to authorize such a thing. A useless communicator is one thing, but risking a crew member in an alien vessel is something else entirely. However, if you have something other than paranoia to support your argument, I’m prepared to listen.”

  “All right,” she said, turning to Alander. “Peter, I need you to ask the Gifts something.”

  He knew there had to be a reason why the discussion had been brought to him.

  “Okay,” he said. “What is it you’d like to know?”

  “I want to know whether the ship has the ability to communicate ftl.”

  Alander nodded, realizing what she had in mind. “Gifts?” His own voice sounded almost thunderous in the emptiness around him, much louder than Hatzis’s or Samson’s.

  “Yes, Peter?”

  “Tell me. Is it possible to use the ship in Spindle Six to test the ftl communicator? Could we fly it somewhere and send a message back to Adrasteia to see if it arrives here okay?”

  “Of course,” replied the Gifts. “Such a procedure would be very simple.”

  “Well, Caryl?” Samson didn’t look smug, just expectant.

  “It makes sense,” Hatzis admitted. “And I’ll allow it if Peter agrees.”

  Her easy acceptance of the idea surprised him. Was it that important to get the communicator working? It must have been if she was prepared to okay something like this. After all, the risks of testing the alien vessel were very real, too.

  “Sure,” he said after a moment’s consideration. Despite his own apprehension about riding in the vessel, he did like the idea of having a little freedom from the others. “Why not?”

  “Then we’ll do it,” she said. “But first, Peter, you eat. Your metabolism is still run down. I don’t want you blacking out on us again.”

  “Did the Gifts send the bug down to the shuttle as we asked?”

  “It’s already been and come back. You now have suppl
ies, but don’t binge. We have no idea how long the rain is going to last down there.”

  He nodded, feeling the first stirring of excitement. “Understood. I’ll be at the Hub in a moment.”

  “Cleo, go tell Otto that Peter will be in the Dry Dock soon,” Hatzis said.

  Samson vanished without another word, while Alander groaned.

  “Do you have to do that?” he said.

  “You’re not going out there alone, Peter. I want a droid with you at all times—and a full conSense link. The ship is Otto’s baby, so he’ll be with you. You’re not going to try any stunts like you did with the shuttle, if I can help it.”

  He smiled at her stern expression. So much for freedom, he thought.

  * * *

  Alander stood on the gantry, watching as the black sphere circled its enormous white parent. He could feel the irregular tug of gravitational waves through his all-too-massive flesh, and he began to have second thoughts about the whole test-flight idea. What was he supposed to do? Jump on it and hope for the best?

  “Is this the sort of ship the Spinners use?” he asked the Gifts, more as a distraction from his anxieties than out of interest.

  “No,” they replied. “They have more advanced means of traveling at their disposal. This hole ship—which in your language would be the closest translation for its name—is a more primitive method of travel, reserved for nascent civilizations such as your own.”

  “How very generous,” he said dryly.

  “You cannot expect to be given all of their knowledge and wisdom, Peter,” said the Gifts in a slightly reproving tone. “Theirs is an advanced civilization. They can’t simply impart to you everything they have ever learned. They have been evolving for millennia. You must attain their degree of sophistication of your own accord; the gifts they have given you are intended to urge you in the right direction.”

  He thought of his original’s dead-end bacteria, trapped forever by the laws of physics and unlucky circumstance. “So basically they’re throwing us a few scraps. Is that what you’re saying?”