by Thomas Stone
"Yes, but it's worse with Blane. They were friends, they shared thoughts through implants. Blane claims he needs the stimulation."
"Right," Parker said matter-of-factly, "he's a wirehead. He's addicted to the extra neural stimulation. The malady was officially recognized two years ago: the Horewitz syndrome."
"Is he going to be all right?"
Parker held up a snail and looked at it. "Beautiful, eh? Blane? Oh, I would think that a person as dependent as he is on stimulation for as long as he has been, I would say that person would have a very rough go of it."
"Can you do anything for him?"
"Sure. No problem. I'll medicate him. He won't be of much use, but he won't go crazy on us."
*
Harry couldn't sleep, so he finally quit trying. For a time, he sat at his small desk and wrote letters to his family and friends. If he made it back intact, he'd carry the letters with him. Rather than use a keyboard, he preferred to write his personal thoughts in long hand. He used a corporation pen with the Braithwaite logo emblazoned on the side. It was nice to look at, but it didn't work very well. Before he could finish the second letter, the pen went dry.
Harry shook it and tried again. No luck. He rose and poked his head out the compartment door. No one was around. The other compartments were shut. No, that wasn't completely the case. Down the hall, Harry saw that Fagen's door was ajar. He pushed himself into the corridor and worked his way to the open hatch.
He tapped on the durasteel door. There was no answer. Harry pushed and the door swung open. The compartment was empty and Fagen's things were secured but out in the open. Clothes were hastily stuffed in mesh bags attached to the bulkhead, the bunk was unmade, and a crack at the desk drawer showed that it too was open.
Moving quickly, Harry floated into the cabin and moved to the small desk. He pulled open the drawer and, as if it knew, a pen floated out. Harry plucked it from the air and glanced at the contents of the drawer. A map, lined with plastic, drew his attention. It was a map of Mia Culpa. They certainly have been on the job, Harry thought, referring to Doris and Nadine.
But something was wrong. He looked at the legend. It was dated five years prior. How could that be? Pondering the question, Harry left Fagen's compartment and shut the door behind.
Parker appeared at the opposite end of the passageway. He said nothing to Harry and proceeded to Blane's room. Not bothering to knock, he pushed opened the hatch and pulled himself inside.
Harry went to the open doorway. Blane was in his bunk with wires running out of his head to his portable computer. His eyes were glazed but he was able to talk.
Doing his best to adopt a bedside manner, the doctor asked Blane how he was doing. Harry noticed that Blane was sweating.
"I'm doing fine, but I don't like being locked out of the ship's computers."
"It's for your own good. You need rest, Blane. I'm a doctor. Remember?"
"Then you know what I really need."
"Kathleen's gone, Blane. You're going to have to get by on your own."
"That's why I need the ship's computers."
Parker shook his head. "No, you need rest." He skillfully slipped a syringe from his pocket and slid the needle into Blane's arm. Blane didn't struggle.
"I can feel it already. It's not unpleasant."
Parker smiled. "I thought you might like it. Ever used drugs before?"
"Sure, but I prefer to plug in. I must admit, this is not too bad. I'd still like to have more data, but my anxiety is definitely leveling out."
"Good," Parker said, "I've got to get back to the lab now." The doctor left, pushing past Harry without speaking. Blane spotted Harry.
"Harry, come in, will you?"
"Hello, Bart." Harry floated into the cabin. "What's the matter?"
"Ah yes, my affliction." The wirehead waved a hand in the air. "Kathleen's gone, you see."
Harry took a handhold on the bulkhead. "Tell me what was between you two."
"You still don't get it, do you?"
"I guess not. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Why not? There was nothing sexual between Kathleen and me, if that's what you're worried about. I know she told you about the implants. What do I care? Here's the story in a nutshell: I've been plugged in for so long that my brain requires spontaneous external stimulation. Computers still can't emulate spontaneous human thought, and that's what Kathleen did for me. She suggested things, made comments, however inane. It was stimulating. It's the human counterpart to being in cyberspace. Anyway, you have to understand, I've been strung out for years. The thing was, Kathleen and I started out as a lab experiment. As you see, she's become more than a friend to me, but not in a sexual way. I don't get my kicks like that."
"So you're having... withdrawal symptoms?"
"Along with a dose of depression, Harry. Like I said, she was my friend. She liked you Harry. She took to you right away."
"Yeah, well..." Harry looked away.
"What did the surface look like?" Blane asked, changing the subject.
Harry told him. He described the trees, how large they were, and he told Blane about the mountains. Then Harry commented on how lucky they were to have found such a place.
"I don't know how much luck had to do with it."
"What do you mean?"
"You weren't on the bridge, but you know we had trouble entering hyperspace, trouble with the computer routine?"
Harry nodded.
"There were some guidance parameters Fagen told me to change. There wasn't time to question it. I just replaced the numbers with those he gave me."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing's wrong with it. It's exactly right. It brought us here. One of these moons is suitable for terra-forming. The planet looks good for colonization. Tons of minerals. This is big time stuff for the corporation. The thing is, Fagen gave me those numbers. Where did he get them?"
"Pre-selected Corporation coordinates, I guess."
Blane replaced one of his disks and started a new program. "Yes, that's the one," he murmured.
"Nope," he continued, "they weren't pre-selected. There's only one coordinate for each trip. Only one destination. There's never been a need for a backup. Hence, there's no such thing. Fagen just dreamed up the new coordinates."
Harry thought about the map he'd seen in Fagen's cabin, but he didn't say anything to Blane about it. Blane yawned and laughed. A little hysterically, Harry thought.
"I'm getting sleepy," he said and laughed again. "I can't remember the last time I slept."
"Maybe it would make you feel better."
"Yeah, maybe so." Blane closed his eyes.
Harry turned to leave but Blane's hand shot out and gripped him by the arm. "If I go to sleep, don't let them unplug me, Harry. I need it. Don't let them unplug me. Okay?"
"Sure," Harry said. He let himself out and went back to his room where he thought about what Blane had said. And the map in Fagen's cabin. Finally, he fell into a restless sleep. Two hours later, a call from the bridge woke him. Bleary, Harry pressed the intercom switch.
"Yeah, what is it?"
Fagen's voice came over the intercom. "Uh, Harry, would you come to the bridge?"
"What is it?"
The response was slow in coming. "Looks like we've got a new radio signal."
"From the surface?" Harry asked, hoping that somehow Kathleen was trying to communicate with the Magellan.
"No, no, not from the surface. From an orbital location. Looks like we might be ready to use your language skills."
Harry was shocked into full alertness. "I'll be right there." He flicked off the intercom and quickly dressed, wondering if they had finally found an alien intelligence.
Chapter 17
Kathleen and her two captors traveled for another full day. She couldn't understand a thing they said, but she noticed that they had begun to treat her better. Although they still kept her hands tied, they allowed her to walk by herself. It was much easier
for all. Once, the young one even offered her some food. Afraid of poisoning, she turned it down.
Along the way, she saw plants and animals of all shapes and sizes. Most had Earth counterparts, although a few were truly bizarre. In particular, there were vines that moved away when approached. By a streambed, Kathleen caught sight of a creature that burrowed into the mud, leaving only its tail above ground. The tail looked like a small green plant. It waved in the breeze, beckoning to insects and small game. When something approached to nibble at its bogus leaves, the creature would spring its trap and devour its game in seconds.
They moved along and left the strange animal behind.
Kathleen kept expecting to hear the sound of the returning shuttle, or the chopping sound of the bladed airjeep, but she was disappointed. They traveled most of the day and heard nothing but the natural sounds of the forest. They'll come looking for me, Kathleen thought, and they'll find me. It could be any time now. She kept looking skyward, expecting to see the shuttle gliding in, but nothing appeared.
Kretin and Arai saw her looking skyward and craned their heads upward in kind, to see for themselves. But there was nothing. Kretin supposed that the alien creature looked for help from its god.
"It believes in a sky god," Kretin told his brother. "See how it looks upward?"
"Maybe it looks for the flying thing," Arai suggested.
"Maybe. Maybe it looks for help from those who murdered father."
Arai shrugged. "I do not think so. It looks more like us than them. Nothing looks like them."
"That is true, but we must remember they all came from the sky. I do not believe they belong here. Perhaps Grandfather will decide to sacrifice this creature." He motioned toward Kathleen.
Without understanding a thing, Kathleen listened to the curious clicks and assorted sounds the Bedorans made.
"The creature saved my life, Kretin."
"Perhaps it was just saving its own life."
"To be sure, that it was. But in so doing, mine was saved. I will remember that."
Kretin snorted. "I will remember as well. I will also watch it closely until we decide what to do with it. Does it not speak? Does it not hunger and thirst? Hey you!" Kretin poked Kathleen with the blunt end of his spear.
She looked at him.
"Do you not speak?"
Kathleen didn't understand. "What?" she said.
"Did you hear that, Arai? What an odd sound it makes." He jabbed her again.
"What do you want?" The aborigines were trying to communicate. She wondered how Harry would handle the situation. She saw she had the attention of the larger one.
He was around five and a half feet tall. The younger one, or so
Kathleen surmised, was nearly two feet shorter. Both were wiry, with a fine, short, clean fur covering their entire bodies. They wore skins around their waists, walked upright, and used their long tails as one might use an extra hand.
Kathleen held her bound hands aloft. "Untie me." She looked directly at the larger one, without averting her eyes from his.
"It has no manners, it looks into the soul without permission." Kretin said to Arai.
Again, Kathleen raised her hands. "Untie me."
"I think it wants me to unbind it."
"It might run away."
Kretin flipped his tail with a negative gesture. Kathleen didn't recognize the gesture for what it was. "Untie me!" She repeated more forcefully.
Suddenly, Kretin's tail whipped around his head and slapped Kathleen across the cheek. It stung her. She responded by turning away and following the smaller one.
"Hah!" shouted Kretin. "I made it understand."
That was the worst thing that happened. Kathleen realized she was in a tenuous situation. She didn't allow herself to think about the possibility that she might be stuck on the planet without a way to get back to the Magellan. Instead, she told herself she had to think positively. If she was to have any kind of chance, first she had to survive. That thought was scary enough.
Survival was something actors did in videos. Kathleen had always lived her life as she had pleased. Rich and pampered, she was able to try whatever interested her and avoid all she found too difficult to live with. As a result, she was beautiful and spoiled. At least she knew it. She had to be tough and smart. What would Harry do?
He would watch and listen and be quiet. Rubbing the side of her face with the back of her hand, she decided that was the best course to take.
*
"What is it?" asked Harry as he floated onto the bridge. All except Blane were there, crowded around the monitors. Fagen glanced up.
"Take a look, Harry." He motioned to a monitor. The display showed several windows, one of which held columns of hexadecimal code.
"The hex code is a data message. We don't quite know what to do with it. I thought you might take a look."
"Where'd it come from? Was there an accompanying voice
message?"
"No, no voice, just data. The source wasn't far away. Just over the horizon, actually. In geosynchronous orbit."
"That close?"
"And now," Fagen peered at another monitor, "it's about 10,000 meters in front of us."
"Got it on visual," said Nadine. A new window opened on Fagen's monitor showing a dark portion of space.
"Can you blow that up some, Nadine?"
"Got it."
The display zoomed forward to reveal a darkened outline among the backdrop of stars. Harry stared at the picture over Fagen's shoulder. It could be a meteor, he thought, or a tiny moon except there were stars shining through it. No, that wasn't it. There were lights shining from it.
"Can you come in closer?"
"No problem." The picture again jumped forward. Now Harry could see details, outlines and shapes. He drew in a breath. It was a ship. A high-tech artifact.
Bonner clapped Parker on the back and shouted like a cowboy. Nadine turned to Doris, grinning, exposing her large, white teeth.
Parker said, "This is a momentous occasion."
"Not yet," said Fagen. "Let's get some spectrographic readings and try to determine what it's made of. Harry, I want you on the bridge for awhile. See if you can make something out of the message."
"Recorders on, Nadine?"
"Uh, I forgot." She typed a command into her terminal. They're going now."
Fagen gave her a stern look. Nadine shrugged and stared at her monitor. Parker shook his head and stood up.
"It's crowded in here. I think I'll watch from the terminal in the lab." He left the bridge while Harry took a place at a vacant terminal. Between glances at what they all hoped was an alien spacecraft, he began to work on the data.
Converting the hex code into symbols was simple enough. The Corporation supplied the most sophisticated conversion programs on Earth. It took less than a minute to see what the code contained.
Harry was undaunted by the confusing symbols that appeared. Immediately he recognized the rudiments of a natural language. He took a deep breath and methodically began trying to break the symbols into patterns. In short order, he divided the message into what he hoped were sentences; then, with a little help from his linguistic analysis programs, the sentences were further divided into words. This was where the task became difficult.
As Harry worked, the Magellan closed on the object. From the telescoping cameras, they recognized ports at the rear, most likely a drive of some sort. The lights appeared to be navigational beacons located port and starboard, fore and aft, with another light above an empty space. When they got close enough, Harry took a long look.
"It looks like an empty hanger bay."
Harry could feel the excitement on the bridge. They all knew what they were looking at and yet they still had to follow Corporation procedures.
Fagen instructed Nadine to send another hailing message. She did so. As before, there was no reply.
"Maybe nobody's home," suggested Bonner.
"Well, they left the garage door open."
"How close should we get?" Doris asked.
"Just close enough to have a good look. Maybe a thousand meters?"
"Closing on that now. Going to park routine." Doris punched a command into her terminal and the ship drifted to a halt. A thousand meters away, the alien ship hung in space. Other than the lights, there was no indication of life.
"What kind of power readings are we getting?"
Bonner stared at readouts and reported. "A little radiation, about the same as us. There's a fluctuating electromagnetic reading, though. I have no idea what that's about. Heat's coming off it too, but that's to be expected."
"Sure looks strange." Nadine commented.
Unlike the Magellan's highly-polished mirrored hull, the alien ship was dark, so dark it might have been painted black. No doubt part of the design included an effort to conceal all reflecting surfaces. It was sleek, basically in the form of a giant teardrop. Along one axis was a raised, rectangular surface that faced the rays from Miaplacidus. Two bulges on either side of the stern made it look as though there were two bulbous eyes. In all, it must have been ten times larger than the Magellan.
Harry was right about the hanger bay. It was open and revealed a space large enough to house a shuttlecraft.
Reluctantly, Harry returned to his work.
He first arranged the symbols into a header, a main body of text, and a closing. Beyond that, without more information, he quickly determined that it was anybody's guess. Some of the symbols were repeated, but there just wasn't enough repetition to assign meaning.
"How's it coming, Harry?" asked Doris.
"Well, it's a message all right."
"Yes?"
"But without more data there's no way I can decipher it."
Doris looked down her nose at the linguist. "Perhaps the computers can handle it, or maybe we can talk Blane into taking a look at it."
Harry shook his head. "I've run all the linguistic analysis stuff already. It says the same thing: lack of primary data. I doubt if Blane can do any more than I've already done."
"Yes, well, Blane's of no use anyway. Keep working on it." She turned away.
"All right," Fagen said, "let's circle this thing, and get a good shot at all sides." He fidgeted with the zoom control. "Okay, okay, I got some markings in the hanger bay. Take a look, Harry. What does that look like to you?"
The display showed the rear of the open hanger deck. Indentations in the bulkhead gave hints as to their purpose. Harry looked at the picture and frowned.
