ORIGINAL STRAND
by
STEVE S. GRANT
Copyright © 2012 Steve S. Grant
ISBN: 978-0-9917393-1-8
Thank you for your support.
ORIGINAL STRAND
The monotonous rumble of mesh wheels against hard packed moon dust kept both men dozing as their long vehicle ate up the kilometers. Mounds of dust loomed on either side of the gray highway like silent sentinels hinting at how many times the road had been plowed over the centuries.
Simon raised his head at an abrupt change of vibration and looked at his companion stretched on the next bed. Victor seemed equally confused and only when they stopped completely did he inquire with a hint of frustration.
“Status?”
Road obstruction ahead prevents further progress. The neutral synthetic voice seemed sympathetic.
“What? We’re on the main trunk!”
Simon walked toward the front window with the energy of youth and whistled at what he saw.
“How bad?” Victor was rubbing the back of his neck.
“Road’s gone. Sheared away by a big met. I’ll call for a cleaning crew.”
“You do that.” With an obvious lack of enthusiasm the older man stood and brought out his space suit. He was halfway dressed when Simon returned.
“How did you know?” asked the young man.
“That they’re not sending a cleaning crew? Easy. We’re bringing back two loaders for maintenance. More than enough to level a stretch of road. In fact, more than what a cleaning crew would have.”
“So we’re going to operate the loaders?”
“You bet. We’ve been promoted to road building duty.”
“Yeah!” Simon pumped a fist in the air.
Victor shook his head in resignation.
* * *
The meteorite had not been as large as Simon had originally assessed, but massive enough to provoke a small landslide across the road. The two loaders were slowly but effectively clearing the debris, tirelessly pushing rocks and dust down a hill to the south. It was boring work and Victor’s mind wandered to his daughter back on Base four. He was interrupted by a change of pressure ahead, and immediately stopped his vehicle. Something heavy was blocking him and he backed the loader for a better look. When the dust settled, he saw a boulder too large to move.
“I’m going to need your help here,” he said. Turning left, he saw a dust cloud where Simon was working. Some of that dust fell into his own cabin since the glass of both loaders had been broken before his great grandfather’s time. The fact that these vehicles were once pressurized and totally automated was something that Victor had long ceased to consider. These machines, like most vehicles on the moon worth anything, dated back to before the Wars. Victor doubted that an original earth-made part remained on either one.
“Vic, I think I found something.”
“Don’t think, just come here and help me push.”
“No really, I think this could be… Vic! You’ve got to see this!”
Simon had climbed out of his loader and was carefully moving over the broken terrain.
“Get back into your seat before you break something. Walking on this ground is not dangerous, it’s stupid.”
“Vic! It’s an artifact! We found an artifact!”
The excited voice was hard to ignore, like Victor’s own daughter when he allowed her to stay up an extra half hour.
“Calm down, just breathe deeply. You know that there are no such things as artifacts, not anymore. They’ve all been found over 200 years ago.”
“Well, they forgot this one. Get your ass over here if you don’t believe me.”
“Yeah, right.” The sheer exertion of dragging the suit’s weight had killed its fair share of moonwalkers over the years. It was an extreme thing to do that often pushed the body beyond its limit.
“I’m going to pull it out then.”
“Pull what out?”
“You’ll see.”
Simon walked back to his loader and leaned on its side while breathing heavily. Luckily, he could manage such bursts of energy. He brought out a cable and returned to his discovery, walking over the 20 meters of treacherous ground with great care. Victor remembered that Simon was an outstanding athlete with higher than average stamina. The young man nonetheless needed all his reserves to drag himself back up the slope and into his loader.
“Happy now?” asked Victor.
“You…just…wait,” panted Simon.
The other vehicle backed away from the rubble and its cable dragged something across the rocks. Victor’s heartbeat accelerated dangerously as he saw the bent and warped metallic form being brought forward. It was long and pointed, in a general shape not unlike a drill bit and had obviously been buried along the slope and dislodged by the landslide. There were faded writings on the side.
“Believe me now?” asked Simon.
Victor swallowed hard.
“Yes.”
* * *
“What did you say?”
“An escape pod. What you describe sounds like an escape pod. There were very common aboard shuttles and stations.”
“So inside it could be─”
“A dead body,” completed Mathew, elected mayor of Base four and foremost historian of the colony. “That’s why you are not to open it under any circumstances, is that understood? Clear the road and get back right away.”
“But it could be empty,” argued young Simon. “There could be others like it lying around.”
“Have you seen any?”
“No but─”
“Then don’t waste time there. We’ll send a crew with detectors and specialized equipment. If there’s anything else around, they’ll find it. You’re already a celebrity, Simon, congratulations!”
“Thank you.”
“See you soon.”
Mathew lightly tapped his armrest and the link was severed. He turned to the woman sitting across the room. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“The prospect of new DNA, of course. You, of all people, should be thrilled by the possibilities of this discovery.”
“Yes, there’s a side of me a bit curious, excited even. My functions as chief reproduction planner would be more than facilitated by new genetic material. But my medical background cries out in alarm at the prospect of what could happen should we not take all possible precautions to protect ourselves.”
“You are in complete control of that aspect, of course,” said Mathew smoothly. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.” He ran thin fingers over the table. “Have you given any thoughts to a possible survivor?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not in the mood.”
“The possibilities are there. These escape pods were designed to freeze and preserve survivors in case of delayed rescue. Someone could still be alive in there.”
“A million to one, not very good odds.”
“I always found the concept of lottery hard to understand. People loyally buying chances week after week in the hope of one day winning the crackpot. It required something close to religious faith.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sorry, just pondering over the past.”
“Well, I’m pondering over the risks of an epidemic spreading to us. The last thing we want is to take chances with a contaminated sarcophagus. Have them bring it to Bay twelve when they return. I’ll prepare an unloading crew and a reception lab, just in case.”
“As I said, everything is in your capable hands,” repeated the mayor. “You must feel privileged to be given the chance of such an opportunity. The last exterior genetic material was found over a hundred years ago.”
“While you make it a priority of memorizing historic
al trivia about artifacts, the only thing I need to remember is the fate of Base three.”
The mayor’s humor changed. “That’s why you’re in charge,” he repeated.
* * *
Sonia looked at the long metallic structure and shivered, barely able to contain her interior thrills. She glanced back at the crowd gathered behind the large Plexiglas and guessed that all of the base’s 67 dwellers were massed there to view the opening. Young Simon’s blond head was proudly standing in front as he retold the story of his discovery.
She turned back to the work at hand and nodded to her three suited assistants. Using power tools and mechanical saws they eventually removed the long circular cover to reveal a smooth and slick black membrane. It was made of a strange substance that would yield to the touch and retake its shape. There seemed to be no way to open it without causing damage and the power tools were used again. Like the peel of an unripe fruit it would not easily part with the surface it was covering.
“What is it?” The mayor’s voice sounded older through her suit speaker.
“Some sort of impact suppressor or crash protector, but I’m only guessing. I see no other use for it.”
One assistant brushed the remaining clinging bits over yet another surface and gasped in surprise. Sonia immediately joined him and what she saw shook her like a punch in the stomach.
Through a perfectly clear glass panel she gazed at a human shape floating in a pink solution. The body was covered with a blue suit from which many lines or cables snaked away to the side. The head was hidden by a bulky helm supporting more cables.
“What do you see?” asked Mathew.
“A floating body.” What had Mathew uncovered from the cover markings? This was an escape pod from shuttle Median six, or something like that. It did not mean much anyway.
“Is it preserved?” asked the mayor.
“It’s covered by a form fitting suit.”
“That’s not possible,” said one of the assistants. “He would be atrociously fat.”
“Not fat, different. He was obviously from earth and built for heavy gravity.”
This caused a ripple in the gathered heads behind the window. Mathew had probably placed their discussion on the intercom and they were all listening now.
“Look at that!” exclaimed another assistant.
Sonia hurried to his side of the pod and saw a glowing red light inside the transparent casing. “What did you do?” she asked.
“Just brushing off the covering.”
“Was the light on under it?”
“No, it came on after the stuff was removed.”
“What light?” asked Mathew.
As he spoke, the red light faded to bright green and the rest of the thick membrane slid away leaving not a single speck of dust on top of the clear container. It was as if a cloth was removed from a table. The crowd got their first look at the floating form and Sonia could tell they were excited.
“What’s happening?” requested the mayor.
“It’s still active,” answered Sonia. “It still has energy.”
“It’s leaking!” a voice shouted.
Sonia looked down and saw pink liquid oozing along the floor. “Don’t step in it. Don’t touch it.” She backed away a few steps.
“What are you doing?” asked Mathew angrily. “You’re not controlling the situation.”
With a sucking sound followed by hissing air, the transparent cover opened slowly while liquid poured out under the structure. Sonia was mesmerized to see a gloved hand twitch.
“It’s alive,” she heard herself say.
* * *
Slowly at first, and then with more confidence, the revived pod survivor moved tentatively until he sat inside the tubular bed and removed his helmet. Short black hair and tired brown eyes were revealed to the gathered watchers who talked excitedly among themselves. Sonia had sent her assistants away to decontamination and remained in the large room with the newcomer. His physical traits, although thick and coarse by lunar standards, were those of a man of Latin origin. She had no way of knowing his genetic background or what strand of modification he had been subjected to. The important thing was to figure out his immunities and whether or not he was a carrier.
For more than twenty minutes he stayed there with his head down, apparently coping with his return to the living. He straitened when Sonia approached and dark eyes stopped her progress. He stared at the room slowly before returning to her.
“Patch me on the bay’s intercom, I wanna talk to him,” requested Sonia.
“You’re on.” She could hear many voices behind the mayor’s reply.
“Do you speak English?”
The man’s reaction was an eye movement to the wall speaker. He nodded instantly.
“I need a blood sample,” she said while showing him a needle.
The newcomer frowned and stood. He stretched his spine and raised abnormally thick arms over his head. Placing a hand on the side of the pod he jumped out, or tried to. He badly miscalculated and made an incredible somersault before crashing on the concrete floor. Sonia’s heart skipped a beat as he landed on his side. This wasn’t happening.
“Sonia, do something!” shouted Mathew.
To think that he had lain inside that box for centuries only to break his bones when getting out was…absurd. She was further amazed when he stood and actually smiled. He brushed off some moon dust and jumped up a couple of times, testing gravity. His casual hops were higher than anyone at Base four had ever seen. In fact, nobody from the colony could have taken that fall without serious injuries. The man now bringing out a case from behind the transparent tank was definitely from earth.
He produced a shiny instrument that he placed against his neck. A small vial was instantly filled with blood and he handed it to the doctor, who was the size of a ten year old next to him. His large hand was thick and powerful and she knew that his entire metabolism was designed to operate in much harsher conditions than here.
He spoke for the first time but Sonia could not understand. She walked to the wall intercom and he just looked at it without understanding.
“Press the white button to talk to me,” she instructed.
“What is the date?” The voice was low and deeply accented, like the deep hum of a big electric engine. For the dwellers of the underground Base four, it was a voice from across time and space.
“According to your years it would be 2507.”
The man’s eyes grew wide. “Am I on the moon?”
“Yes.”
“Who won the war?”
“Don’t answer that,” warned Mathew. “Just tell him that you need to analyze his blood.”
“We will talk later,” said Sonia.
The man ran a hand through his short hair and nodded.
Sonia turned and left the bay.
* * *
“What war was he talking about?” asked Victor. As a council member of Base four, he was very interested in the newcomer, especially considering his active role in his discovery.
“I frankly don’t know. There were so many conflicts before the cataclysm, so many factions and battles, we’ll have to ask him.”
“Why aren’t we asking him now?”
“Because Sonia will probably be able to tell us a lot beforehand.”
“Could he be a soldier?” wondered Billy, the oldest council member at the table.
“Maybe. It doesn’t really matter until Sonia tells us what to expect.”
“You saw the way he looked at the place,” pursued the old man. “He must think himself back in time instead of forward.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wouldn’t let Sonia use her needle on him probably because he never saw one. Or never used one. He comes from the era where technology was at its highest stage of development and the wonderful devices used by the first survivors must have been everywhere when he went to sleep. You all saw how he got a blood sample? Even Sonia had never he
ard of anything like it. In his eyes we must have sunk pretty low.”
Sonia walked in and tiredly took her seat. Everyone leaned forward and Mathew urged her to speak.
“He’s not a carrier,” she announced with relief.
“Can you be sure?” Pressed Victor.
“Absolutely. The 214 genetic diseases are extremely easy to detect. This man is clean.”
“Can you date him?”
“He’s been modified, that’s obvious. Nothing major, mind you, like those freaks born just before the cataclysm. I’d put his birth somewhere between 2110 and 2120.”
“Very precise estimate,” complimented Mathew. “What were his modifications?”
“Brain and reflex enhancement. Fairly mild ones, easily reversible for reproduction purposes.”
“So we can use his DNA?”
“Absolutely.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, dear council members, now we can talk about him.”
“One other thing,” added Sonia casually. “Because of what he is, he will require six times the amount of food a normal adult would need.”
“That much?” Victor was shocked.
“And probably more in terms of oxygen.”
“No member of the community is worth that much,” said old Billy while staring in front of him.
“It would be hasty to address such matters before we can assess what sort of contribution he could make,” said the mayor. “Maybe he’s a scientist.”
“An engineer with good reflexes?” joked Victor.
“Let’s interview him here,” proposed Mathew.
“Is that wise? He comes from a very violent era.” Billy crossed his arms. “Maybe we could bring out those… you know the name… those electrosticks.”
The remnants from another time had never been used for as long as the present council members had lived. To suggest their utilization, or even acknowledge their existence, was unheard of.
“What would that tell him about our intentions?” asked Sonia. “Welcome among us, you are now our prisoner? Really. Everything he knows is dead, destroyed centuries ago. He’s not a threat.”
“I agree with her,” said Mathew.
“Very well,” Billy finally said.
Sonia left the room before he changed his mind. Walking swiftly along the underground tunnels, she reached Bay twelve and opened the door without pausing. The earthman was standing close to the window, staring at the amassed people on the other side. He turned to Sonia as she started toward him.
Original Strand Page 1
