DayStar: Immortals Among Us (The Delphi Countdown trilogy Book 1)

by JB Penrose

  “Well, I hope you have a very successful mission,” she said earnestly. “And that it doesn’t take a lifetime.”

  The silence was poignant, and it was the last confirmation Rachel needed. Her heart sank but she kept her chin up. After all, few had ever seen the Aurora.

  The electric tram traveled silently between the buildings. There were no external markings; the code John input at the beginning of their ride pre-selected their destination.

  The hangar where it stopped was as large as a city block. Through the open rooftop, the uncharacteristic sunshine of a December afternoon reflected off the sleek, silvery surface of the first one-way, galactic spaceship.

  Rachel was struck by the simplicity of the Aurora’s design. Balanced inside the oval shaped metal gridwork like a saucer inside a gyroscope, the smooth surface of the ship reminded her of an eggshell - tough, yet fragile.

  John gripped the exterior grid and swung like a boy at the playground. There was no denying his familiarity with his craft. She had to admit, John Reider and PROBE-Tech had accomplished what no one else in the world had yet done, and he obviously believed in it with his life.

  “She’s remarkable. I can’t believe I’m standing here a week before you launch.” Rachel wandered around the structure in awe.

  There was no activity in the hangar. Not until John waved to a camera did she notice that projection screens lined the walls. Their activity confirmed last minute preparations being handled in underground control rooms. She saw her image on one of the screens that monitored the hangar and noticed how Peter watched her.

  “The world will profit much from what you leave behind.”

  He shrugged. “For me, it ends at the conference. For Nathan, that’s where it starts.”

  “Nathan is going to miss you more than he admits.”

  “We’ve become good friends. But this,” he motioned around him, “has always been my mission.” John led her to a large “X” painted on the floor beneath the Aurora. “Would you like to see inside the ship?”

  “You mean it’s this simple? I just stand on the X?”

  “We have to make it easy, you know. We won’t be getting many visitors out there!” John pressed a few buttons on his wrist-control and Peter quickly stepped within range. “Aurora. Stem-lift.”

  The tingling sensation only lasted a few seconds, and Rachel was hardly aware that she’d closed her eyes until she opened them. “It’s like stars in the daylight!” She blinked. “Where are we?”

  “Here, try these.”

  She thought John pulled sunglasses from his pocket, but what she put on filtered out the motion of twinkling lights. The walls, floors and ceiling of the freight-sized elevator were constructed of identical circuit panels. The translucent panels flickered with tiny electrical charges and provided a dim but consistent glow for the ship’s lighting.

  “Your eyes will adjust in a moment,” John assured her. “We’ve re-generated into the stem-lift. It’s an elevator that runs through the center of the ship to each deck. Aurora,” John spoke into a reddish colored comm-unit on the wall. “Crew quarters.” She felt the elevator rise.

  “We could have transported directly to any location on the ship, but I thought you might like to see it this way.”

  Rachel didn’t trust her voice; there was a feeling of familiarity she couldn’t shake. She took off the glasses and let her eyes adjust to the lights.

  “The Aurora has seven levels,” John explained. “The bridge is the fourth and center deck; the crew’s quarters are on top. Other floors serve as cargo bays and equipment stalls but are primarily structured to house the number of circuit panels necessary to defuse the energy from the light-drive crystal into the computer system. The entire ship is engineered to recharge itself.”

  “Wow! I mean,” Rachel stammered in amazement when the doors opened, and repeated, “Wow!”

  Bright sunshine spilled to the full room through the ship’s clear geodesic ceiling and she slipped the special glasses in her coat pocket. Their crew-quarters had the look and feel of a New York hotel lobby with plants and flower arrangements. There was a comfortable lounge area with a bar and billiards, and a rich wood grain bookcase built around a large projection screen. The modular kitchen in the center of the room was the only item in the crew quarters built with the same twinkling circuit panels as the stem-lift.

  “How does the food really taste?” she asked. The patent for the food replicator system was the first technology PROBE-Tech released globally. It had done much to stem the world’s hunger.

  “Admittedly, it tastes like late-century hospital food,” John said, “but it can be nutritious.”

  A small stairway accessed six doors circling the balcony above them. Seeing it firsthand brought home the point of their impending separation. She wondered which one was Peter’s, and who would occupy the other three rooms.

  “I admit I was curious to know how you would spend the rest of your life.” She fingered the leather bindings of the classics on the bookshelf and whistled appreciatively at the collection. “This is, well, not what I expected.”

  “It’s probably not what you think,” John told her. Let me show you.” He activated a wall panel with a palmscan. “Aurora. Basic,” he directed.

  The crackling of static was the only thing Rachel heard as the sofa and plants changed form. Or lost form, if her eyes hadn’t deceived her. It lasted only a moment, but the plants and chairs melted into cubes of various sizes spread around the floor. She tapped the charcoal squares - rough, cool, and firm, and solidly attached to the surface where they sat.

  “You live in holographic rooms?”

  “Not holographic,” John explained. “It’s a process similar to molding molecules, re-generation, like the food replicators, and the transport units. Basically, the poly-xenite mined on Mars contains every basic element of the universe and can be shaped into pre-programmed objects by alternating the polarization.”

  He activated the panel again. “Aurora. Central Park.”

  She was fascinated as the cubes around her transformed into rocks and ivy that wound around wide tree trunks. They stood under shady trees with chirping birds, and the sound of a babbling of a brook added to the artificial atmosphere. Even Peter seemed impressed with the reality.

  “Notice how the floor responds when you move?” John prompted her. The floor was a gravel running track and she tested it with a light step or two. “It moves with the surroundings. The rest is visual aide, basically reflection and projection.”

  A cool breeze washed her face with the smell of grass and flowers and she inhaled deeply. “This is amazing. Why haven't I heard about it before?”

  “You will, soon. It's part of our presentation at the OneWorld Conference.”

  “John?” The voice came through his wrist commicator. “We’re scheduled for a test of the grav-pipe.”

  “I’d better be going,” Rachel volunteered. “I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”

  “Not really,” John assured her. “But I’m sorry to cut this short. I always seem to leave you in the middle of a tour. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  “Not at all! Seeing inside the Aurora was more than I expected. Thank you, really.” She took a last look around her and shook her head in amazement. “I’ll let you get back to work. And good luck at the conference.”

  “I’ll see you back to the visitor’s center.” Peter turned toward the stem-lift and added a smile in her direction that stopped her heart.

  “Here, Peter.” John handed him the wrist device. “You remember how it works?”

  Rachel understood the look between them more than she let on. Irony, regret, secrets. She felt everything even if she wasn’t empathic to the crewmembers. Peter reached for her hand before he voiced the command. “Aurora, entry.”

  Rachel held her breath, keenly excited to experience the transport from the ship to the hangar. This time, she wanted to do it with her eyes open. Particle by particle
her vision dissolved and then reassembled in a few seconds. Before she knew it, she was standing in the hangar on the X outside the ship.

  “Professor Kerroon! Good to see you again.” The greeting came from behind.

  She read the name Tompkins stitched on his jumpsuit. Long gray hair pulled back at the neck with a metal ring framed his tan face. From the number of patches and chevrons on his sleeve, it was obvious he’d been with PROBE-Tech for some time. She couldn’t sense anything about the director, but Rachel was acutely aware he shielded himself, a different sense than Peter or John. She was surprised, since few people had the awareness to know she was telepathic.

  “Donnally Tompkins! I wondered where John was keeping you.” Their friendly handshake turned into a familiar hug.

  “Down below, as always. I heard you’d arrived.” He turned his curiosity toward Rachel. “And with a guest.”

  “Let me introduce Ms. Bolton. Donnally Tompkins, the Aurora’s launch director.”

  “Call me Chief,” he bowed slightly. “How fortunate your experience to see inside the Aurora. I hope you were suitably impressed.”

  “Mind-bending excitement,” she confided. It surprised her not to see a ring on his finger. “I’ll never be able to thank John enough for the opportunity.”

  “Nor will I.” His eyes drifted toward the ship.

  Buzz! Buzz!

  Rachel practically jumped into Peter’s arms at the deafening sound, then pulled away, decorously embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” Donnally apologized. “I actually came to warn you we’re about to test the grav-pipe.”

  Rachel heard a deep rumbling and saw the walls of the hangar lower into the ground. The submerged wall also provided additional fortification for the control rooms below.

  “We’d better be going,” Rachel shouted over the noise. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Tompkins, uh, Chief!”

  “My honor, Ms. Bolton,” he said. “See you later, Peter.”

  Peter waved off his words and steered Rachel toward the awaiting tram. Inside, he programmed their destination and sat opposite her on the bench. She breathed slowly to calm herself.

  “What’s a grav-pipe?” There was an internal bet with herself whether he would answer or not. He looked her in the eyes before he did so, and she felt his unwillingness to lie to her as more than trust.

  “The Aurora extends a shield around the perimeter of the ship, almost propelling the ship upward within the field. But it’s one of those things you’d need to see to understand.”

  “There’s a lot about the Aurora, and the other technology PROBE-Tech is giving away that I would wonder about. But there doesn’t seem to be enough time to ask all of the questions.” The Aurora would be another piece of history in her long and exciting life, just as Peter was. She felt the artist in him study her composure but the silent flattery only made her sit up straighter. Rachel stared out the window, pretending fascination at the endless array of identical white hangars.

  “How about a cup of coffee?” When they arrived at the reception center Peter softened his hold on her arm, but didn’t release her.

  Equal forces within her shouted, “run”; “stay”, but the indecision forced all other reasoning out of her head. “I’m sorry. I have an appointment,” she lied, and headed for her car.

  “Are you sure?”

  There was no denying the disappointment in Peter’s voice. Rachel nodded. “But I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow. What time should I expect you?”

  “I could pick you up around six if you’d like to do some Christmas sightseeing first.”

  “I’d like that.” She turned the ignition and forced herself to look at him. “Do you have my address?”

  “Yes, even your phone number. I almost called this morning.”

  Rachel wished for the words to say he should have called, and managed a shy smile. “Pick me up at the side entrance,” she said. “Only salesmen use the front door.”

  Peter sighed visibly and closed the car door. In her rearview mirror she saw he stood where she left him until he was out of her sight.

  * * *

  Gail Richards didn’t mind working the Christmas holidays except that her scrooge-boss expected, rather than appreciated her efforts. She spun the dreidel on a stack of papers idly interested in how it would land.

  She was surrounded by an array of small monitor screens linked directly to every newswire in the world. Printouts littered her desk with “items of interest”; too often she worked late trying to piece them together. Scanning networks and newswires she made connections of unlikely discoveries just by instinct. The printouts were only pieces of a puzzle, and Gail loved puzzles. Today she was trying to link yet another cyber attack at PROBE-Tech to something on her desk; the dreidel was as good of answer as anything she’d determined yet.

  Being a special researcher for the Director of Global Affairs was the most exciting job she’d ever dreamt of. The BGA was created as an oversight department to monitor world activities of all kinds. Her job was to find connections between those activities, any connection.

  The spinning dreidel danced around the desktop avoiding collision with other colorful dreidels doubling as paperweights. The BGA Director tried to insist there be no holiday decorations in the office, but she limited her festive spirit to her desk and he grudgingly obliged. The wreath hanging on the front was much too large to be attractive, but it was a gift from the secretary pool, as were the many dreidels now strewn about her desk.

  It wasn’t just computer skills that landed Gail the job at the Bureau of Global Affairs, or the fact she was the only person in the secretary pool who could tolerate working for Frank Morrow. Gail had a photographic memory – and that was the single thing she had in common with the BGA Director, but it’s what got her the job.

  Her boss was one of the most powerful men in government. He was also one of the most dangerous. She saw how he acted toward the most influential of people, and she knew what he would do with information whenever it benefited him to use it. Frank operated as two people: the one you don’t see, and the one you watch out for. Gail tried to look out for both.

  She knew Frank had been in his office since last night by the number of cigarette butts in the ashtray. His desk was otherwise neatly arranged. Not that there was anything to find. Frank committed everything to memory. “Appointment books are very dangerous weapons,” he once warned an associate.

  Gail whistled along with the carols on the radio impressed with the duration of her spin and skimmed the networks for news items. The whole world was speculating about the upcoming launch and what the Aurora’s crew would discover about the DayStar, and about the OneWorld Conference happening after Christmas. Frank wanted all the information he could get on both. Not that he was a supporter of the world release of technological information. In fact, he had slanted information against John Reider and the conference more than once.

  The dreidel spun out of energy and fell to one side. Nun. Exactly what she already had – nothing.

  “What are you doing here?” The Bureau Director stormed into the office like a dark cloud.

  “I was getting a head-start on this report you wanted.”

  “Now I want you to take the rest of the day off. And don’t ask for holiday overtime just because it’s Christmas Eve.” He ignored the look of disbelief on her face. Frank had seen her work overtime without pay; he usually expected it. “And don’t come in tomorrow, either.”

  Gail opened the desk drawer and pulled out her purse. “Sure. Merry Christmas.” She reached for her coat.

  “And get rid of these decorations before the New Year.” Frank returned her greeting.

  She felt his piercing eyes in her back until the door closed, glad to be out of his presence. Something had put him in a very bad mood. Gail pulled on her coat and rummaged through her oversized purse for car keys. Everyone was celebrating Christmas holidays with family or friends; Gail relied on her job to fill those empty hours. She didn
’t really have a reason to go home.

  There was far too much in her bag, but her keys were on a ring with a canister of mace and usually easy to find. They must be on her desk, she reasoned, and opened the door slightly to peek inside. Her office was empty. Careful of the noise, she tiptoed in and stayed to the blind-side of Frank’s open office door.

  “I have taken care of your ID for the conference,” Frank confirmed in a low voice to someone on the phone. “Your cover is a linguist. And I expect you to keep your end of the bargain.”

  She paused, waiting for Frank’s voice to cover any movements she made.

  “If you don’t take care of it, I will,” he threatened. “What we have won’t be worth shit if John Reider gives away this technology.”

  Gail froze at the mention of PROBE-Tech’s founder. Frank swiveled in his chair to look out the window behind his desk. There was the slightest of jingles as Gail lifted her keys from the desk; she gripped them tightly and hoped Frank hadn’t noticed. If she were caught in here now, she’d be in as much danger as John Reider. Quietly disappearing out the door, Gail ran through the parking lot until she reached the safety of her car.

  * * *

  Sunday

  December 25, 2044

  The meticulous order of Rachel’s greenhouse belied her inner turmoil. She hid her insecurity with a look or a smile, but inward she always fought the fear of not being anchored somehow, somewhere, or to someone. Her garden was her security, predictable, rooted.

  Rachel was determined to enjoy the evening, even if it would be their first and last date. She anticipated Peter’s company all day, and now she watched through the window as he walked to the side entrance, leisurely, curious. Inside he took a long, appreciative look around her private heaven. Rachel thought again how handsome he was in a tuxedo.