In an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, he turned to Aurora. “What’s up? Feet hurting, love? Want me to rub them for you?”
“I’ve never shown anyone this before,” she said. “I’ve always been a bit ashamed of what I thought was a deformity, but....”
She raised her leg to show her bare foot. The toes were stubby and boneless looking, just like the astronaut’s and the babies’. “I thought you all ought to know. There’s not much doubt that I’m one of them, is there?
“But the point is: no matter how human I—we—appear, we’re not human, can’t be. Do humans regenerate new limbs? Do humans usually look like me when they’re nearly eighty years old? Can they heal people with a touch? Yes, OK”—as she saw Bryan open his mouth to speak—“I know some people do claim to be healers, laying on of hands and all that. But they’ve hardly replaced doctors and modern medicine, have they? Isn’t that right, Bob?”
Lundquist nodded. “There do seem to be substantiated cases, but, like all the so-called psi powers—including telepathy, clairvoyance, and Bryan’s dowsing—they seem to be fugitive, and recalcitrant when it comes to testing under scientific conditions. Which reminds me: I hope you’re prepared to be a guinea pig for quite a while when we get back to Earth, Anne—er, Aurora.”
“Huh. We’ll see,” was her only answer.
Beaumont got a card game underway—something which Aurora normally avoided whenever possible, seeing little point in such pursuits. However, there was a mood pervading the Refectory and anything which would help to dispel it should be encouraged, so she was the first to join in with him.
They played for a while, with Beaumont winning easily. After a while Minako, discouraged by a run of hopeless hands, dropped out and sat aside, obviously brooding on something.
Orlov tried casually to cheer her up, but she turned away his remarks. Then she said: “We have some unfinished business, I think, Dr. Beaumont.”
Beaumont’s face whitened. “Oh. That.”
“Yes—that. I think you owe me some explanation for what you said?”
Seeing that the others were looking from one to the other in puzzlement—except for Verdet, who clearly had at least some idea of what was going on—Beaumont explained, haltingly, about the misunderstanding between Verdet and Minako during their journey alone.
When he’d done there was a long silence. All eyes were on him.
Averting his eyes from Aurora, he said, haltingly: “OK. Yes, there’s more to it than that. I’m sorry. You have to know.”
He drew a deep breath and looked up at the Igloo’s ceiling, as if a merciful Fate might—might just—do him a favor by sending a meteorite crashing through it to obliterate him.
“It was me all the time.”
No one else spoke. No one took pity on him.
“I—I leaked the news to the media—or at least to a contact of mine in the media—on Earth.”
There was another long pause and then Aurora’s violet eyes blazed, a fearsome sight.
“Bryan, you bastard! How could you? After all we’ve been through together! I thought you were my.... You swore to me it wasn’t you!”
“Well, I couldn’t find a way of just letting you all know, could I? Drop it nonchalantly into the conversation over the cornflakes in between asking you to pass the milk, sort of thing?”
His flippancy wasn’t working, and he realized it quickly.
“I mean, it didn’t really matter, after all—not until someone else was accused.”
He shrugged, the sort of shrug an arrested criminal gives when he recognizes that the cops know everything, that the game’s up.
“Oh, it’s the old story. I got into bad financial difficulties. Those credit cards—they make it so easy, don’t they? And I happen to like really expensive hi-fi equipment, and flashy cars, and top-of-the–range computers.... It’s amazing where it goes, isn’t it? Well, they were threatening to sue me, and that could have ended my career in space if it was found out. Especially if I went to prison! I was lucky to keep it from them as long as I did.”
He looked as if he were about to burst into tears.
“Yeah, I know it’s a mug’s game, but then I met this guy from a media company, and he said they’d pay off all my debts, with a bit on top—OK, quite a lot on top—if I’d report back any snippets of information that were, you know, exclusive. And all confidential, of course. They had no idea how lucky they were going to be!
“Anyway, I was offered big money if I came up with any ‘scoops’, and my contact had authority to act as my agent. They could have ruined my career if it got out, too.
“I suppose it all sounds a pretty poor excuse....
“Sorry, Minako,” he said intensely, suddenly turning to her.
Then he looked directly at Aurora.
“I’m even more sorry it had to affect you. But you were the big news, weren’t you? You can see, can’t you? I had to do it.” As though they were now totally alone, he added quietly. “It doesn’t make any difference to—you know—us? I do love you, you know.”
After a long moment the lines of Aurora’s face relaxed, and she leant over and hugged him. “You great big softie!” she said, her Scottish brogue coming through. “It isn’t really that important. They were bound to get hold of the news sooner or later, weren’t they? But you should have told me about your problem. You should have been honest with me—with us all.”
Beaumont now looked embarrassed. So did the others, though for different reasons.
Orlov, trying hard to look stern, said: “I can’t say what action may be taken back on Earth—it’s out of my hands, you understand. And now”—obviously keen to get out of the Refectory as quickly as he decently could—“I think I’ll turn in.”
“Yes, I’m feeling a bit of a raspberry, too!” said Verdet with something halfway between a grin and a leer.
“That’s ‘gooseberry’,” said Lundquist.
“Comment?” asked Verdet earnestly. There was a twinkle in his eye as he left.
Now alone in the Refectory, Beaumont and Aurora hugged each other. Soon the hugs developed into passionate embraces. After half an hour it was Aurora who said: “Do you think we could risk going to, you know, just one of our rooms tonight?”
* * * *
Much later, Beaumont startled Aurora by suddenly sitting up straight in her bunk, nearly dislodging her onto the floor, and saying: “Of course, you realize we’ll have to get married now?”
Aurora groaned, turning her eyes heavenward.
“No, I’m serious. I know it’s considered, well, a bit old-fashioned these days,” he said. “But why don’t we, you know, make it all legal? That’s if you’ll have me.”
“If only it were that simple,” Aurora sighed. “Have you really thought it through? I’ve lived with my knowledge for a long time, and it’s one reason why I’ve avoided...emotional entanglements up to now. By the time you’re an old man I may look like your daughter. Could you live with that?”
“I could if you could. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a dirty old man had a beautiful young wife, would it?” He grinned, looking very young himself. “I do love you, and that’s all that matters.”
“Well, then....” She paused for a long time, staring at the ceiling. “Well, I guess the answer’s ‘Yes’. But let’s tie the knot right away. Why wait? At least it’ll give the media something different to talk about!”
“I wish we’d told them about us before,” said Beaumont, stroking her hair.
Aurora said nothing. She was too busy nibbling his ear.
* * * *
Next morning the report from Earth was fairly brief. Mission Control asked them to find out as much about the propulsion system of the alien craft as possible. (“Hah! Did they think I wasn’t going to anyway?” huffed Orlov.) Experts were working to analyze the “movie”, but it was too soon for them to have come up with any results. There was news from all around Earth of disc-shaped craft in the skies, some
of them landing or crashing. A farmer in Berkshire, England, claimed to have unearthed a buried one while plowing. Also in England there was a resurgence of crop circles, which had been debunked as a hoax ‘way back in the 1990s. Needless to say, none of these claims had been substantiated, but the populace now seemed prepared to believe just about anything. As a corollary, every crank belief or theory was being disinterred and held up as having been true all along but suppressed by the authorities in a monstrous conspiracy.
White-gowned Druids were holding a ceremony at Stonehenge; they now claimed to be the true descendants of the star people. The stones could be made to prove it....
* * * *
In the Igloo a very different ceremony was being held. Orlov had obviously been tickled to be asked to perform a wedding ceremony, as “Captain” of their expedition. He appeared wearing an impressive cosmonaut’s dress uniform that no one had ever seen before—he must have brought it as part of his personal allowance.
Having got them all seated except Beaumont and Aurora, he performed the ceremony. He seemed like a strange blend of Russian Orthodox priest and American Justice of the Peace. His efforts were oddly moving.
To Aurora’s surprise, Minako had come to her, rather shyly, on hearing the news of their intended marriage, and had offered her a golden ring. “It was my grandmother’s,” was her only explanation. Now, Beaumont placed the ring on the third finger of Aurora’s left hand. It was a remarkably good fit. For a moment she stared at it incredulously. Marriage had never been on her agenda.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Orlov announced proudly. Bride and groom exchanged a long, lingering kiss, to the accompaniment of applause and whoops.
During the party which followed, Beaumont asked Orlov how he came to have a knowledge of the US civil wedding ceremony.
“Oh, was married once, to American girl,” replied the Russian, reverting to peasant mode. “Lasted three months. Three months too long. She tramp!”
Beaumont had brought his minisynth into the Refectory and, at Minako’s request, tuned it to sound like something between a harmonium and an old church pipe organ. It was an unusual but evocative combination, and Minako displayed a hitherto undisclosed talent by playing a selection of Japanese folk tunes. There was much laughter at their attempts to dance in the confined space.
As the newlyweds left for a few brief hours together, Minako again entered into the spirit of the occasion, catching a bunch of paper flowers which Aurora had flung in her direction. Everyone clapped this, and there were more toasts in orange juice and cola.
“We should have had some good Russian vodka!” said Orlov.
“Hah! Saki is better,” claimed Minako cheerfully.
“Skol!” said Lundquist, raising his orange juice.
Mission Control allowed the ceremony to be transmitted on TV and immediately thereafter released on Hi-Disc and wafer, and around the world the public lapped it up.
Then it was back to work.
* * * *
Out at the alien ship, all efforts were centered on clearing sand and rock from the rest of its perimeter and as much of the underside as possible. They set to with a will.
Verdet had half of his body underneath, clearing away soil from what looked like a piece of steering mechanism, when a shout came from Beaumont. “Claude—watch out!”
The heavy craft, no longer stable, suddenly shifted and tilted. It gave out a metallic groaning noise like a leviathan in pain, audible even through the thin air, and began to fall on him.
Orlov caught hold of his arm and yanked, and Verdet scrambled out with a fraction of a second to spare as the ship smacked down violently, causing a minor earthquake and showers of sand.
After that they were more careful. Not having for a moment expected an operation of this type to be necessary, they had not come equipped with anything resembling struts or props. But some of them began collecting suitably sized rocks which could be used to shore up the ship where it was exposed. The low gravity helped them to move quite large, flat boulders between them. It was of course quite impossible to move the ship, but they could at least try to prevent it from shifting again.
At last the greater part of the exterior was visible and the ship stood almost level. Minako walked around it taking video while Orlov and Verdet began their examination. Beaumont and Aurora climbed inside, as she wanted to see if any of the other controls would produce results, or even if there might be a further “movie” or other message. But for them to be able to work there comfortably for any length of time would mean sealing the interior so that they could remove at least the top parts of their suits. This would make it difficult for the others to come and go from the engineering section.
Orlov came up with the answer to that. “You go inside, and seal the canopy. Then open the hatch that leads to the damaged area, dash back into the cockpit, and seal the central door behind you. After that you two can do whatever you like in there”—there were some sniggers over the suit radios at that, but he ignored them—“and we can enter from the outside through the damaged part, wearing suits—the hole is plenty big enough.”
The red band on the Beacon now glowed steadily, so Aurora was able to follow his instructions without difficulty. As she tried to close the cabin door, though, it jammed partly open, just as it had when she’d first opened it. A fifteen-centimeter gap was left, through which air was whistling out. Already light-headed, Aurora tried again, and a third time.
At last the door closed.
“We’ll have to watch that,” said Beaumont as the pressure built again. “If it was an ordinary door we could oil it. But I haven’t yet figured out how these doors work.”
“Yes. And I wonder where the air keeps coming from?”
This was something everyone dearly wanted to know. With Lundquist helping them, they examined all the mechanisms now exposed, using radiation counters, magnetometers, even an ultrasound scanner and Lundquist’s portable X-ray machine.
Attempting to cut open any of the machinery was of course not to be countenanced. If it ever became necessary, or allowed, it would probably be done by a later expedition, bringing experts in fields not previously anticipated to be useful on Mars.
They hoped it would never be necessary.
WHERE IN THE UNIVERSE—?
Vitali Orlov was making his report to Earth.
“...we found, by accident really, that when Aurora operated one of the controls a strong magnetic field was generated in a sort of dome or hump in what we call the engine room. Really strong—I wouldn’t want to stay around it for long, though it seems to be shielded almost completely from the cabin by the walls and bulkheads of the inner section. Nothing else appeared to happen, though.
“There’s no radiation to speak of, though what there is varies from place to place. We managed to get images of the interiors of some apparatus, and I’ll be transmitting those when I’ve finished talking. Some of them opened remarkably easily—perhaps for ease of maintenance. That was a big help.
“Here’s a summary of what we think we’ve found—though no doubt your experts will want to have their say.
“First, the ship seems to have an ion-drive for forward movement in space, vastly more advanced than anything we’re working on. It doesn’t seem to be the only method of propulsion, though. Some of the machinery is, frankly, inexplicable; we can’t imagine what it does. But there is a big electromagnetic torus which extends right round the perimeter of the ship, except where it breaks at the ion-drive. Like an almost-closed horseshoe.
“There just isn’t enough room for reaction mass for an interstellar mission, so this lends support to the theory that it must have come from some huge mother ship, or ark, which perhaps passed right through the Solar System and out again.
“If that’s the case, though, surely you’d expect at least one scout ship—or whatever—to have reached Earth safely, so there should be more people like Aurora walking around. She managed to keep the fact quiet, s
o I suppose they could be doing the same—but perhaps now they could be persuaded to come out of hiding? Maybe you could broadcast an appeal, or something?
“Sorry. I’m supposed to be making a factual report, but we can’t help ideas running through our heads, can we?
“There doesn’t seem to be space inside for enough life-support—food, water, and so on for the woman and the babies for more than a matter of weeks. A lot longer if they were in suspended animation, of course, but we can’t find any evidence that they were. There’s no cryogenic apparatus—nothing we can find that would place them in hibernation.
“There’s always the possibility that they had invented some kind of drug, of course, of which only a tiny quantity would be needed. So Dr. Lundquist has run blood and tissue tests on the woman and one of the babies. There are one or two unusual characteristics, but no unknown drugs—at least that he could detect.
“Now, air. They brought some oxygen with them; but they have a machine—which we’re going to find very useful ourselves on future missions, if we can duplicate it. I’m sure we can crack it.... Where was I? A machine, using some sort of catalytic process which converts carbon dioxide directly, continuously, and apparently easily into oxygen.
“During its flight it would have converted the CO2 breathed out by the occupants. Dr. Lundquist thinks it is possible that the carbon left over was combined with other elements and transmuted into food. That would help solve the life-support problem, of course—but it’s mainly theory at the moment. It wouldn’t contribute much, in any case.
“It does explain how it keeps filling the ship with air. With carbon dioxide making up ninety-five per cent of the atmosphere of Mars, it just keeps extracting the oxygen. Easy!
“We ran a test with Aurora, and she thinks that mental—psionic, if you like—power may be used, at least partly, to control the ship, and even to regulate the motors. That would explain the lack of normal-looking electronic controls. But what she has done so far has scared her, and I agreed that we should take it no further. We certainly aren’t ready to fly the ship! Though actually I’m pretty sure that would be impossible anyway—the engine section is too badly damaged. Pity.
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