Impulse

by Dave Bara

  “And how will we find it, inside that maze?” she asked.

  “We can track the hyperdimensional emissions to a certain extent, but the faceting will make communication difficult, especially if the interior is crystal, which is likely. The best way will be to simply explore the rooms,” said the Historian. She looked up at the display again. It was painting in a myriad of pathways and rooms as our signals bounced around inside.

  “That could take months,” she said.

  “Then we’d best get started. Mr. Cochrane and I can do the EVA together. Likely we’d work most efficiently that way.”

  “If you think I’m staying here while you go on a walkabout—”

  “I’m not willing to risk more than the two of us on this mission,” said Serosian, interrupting the captain. “Peter and I have trained together for many years and I know that I can trust the commander to follow my instructions. Can you say the same?” Dobrina crossed her arms in frustration but that seemed to settle the issue for the moment.

  “Very well,” she said, raising her voice. “Mr. Layton,” she called, “get back here and take us in, slowly. Mr. Marker, one-hundredth speed on the impellers, no faster. And Mr. Cochrane,” she said, turning to me. “Your job is to find us the way in.”

  It took me nearly an hour to find it. We had set our course to a series of passes from pole to pole on the object, searching in the dark the old-fashioned way, running lights across her surface. We did manage to blend in some radar mapping so we could make judgments on the most likely locations, but in the end it was just good old eyeballing that produced the result we were looking for.

  “There!” said Dobrina, pointing to the main display. “It’s almost a perfect hexagon.”

  “Confirming,” I said, running my hands over my ’scope display. “Odds of artificiality are over ninety-nine percent. It’s also aligned at the energy epicenter, nineteen point five degrees north latitude. I’d wager a week’s pay that’s our way in.”

  Serosian nodded. “I agree,” he said.

  “Mr. Cochrane, calibrate your run and then take us in. Slowly,” commanded Dobrina.

  I was very conservative with our approach, taking nearly thirty minutes to descend to a distance of five hundred meters, then I rolled the yacht so that her airlock was facing the black hexagon.

  “Can we confirm that there’s an opening?” asked Dobrina. Layton responded.

  “Negative, sir,” he said. “Navigation light beams terminate at the event horizon, at what would be the surface if it were natural. Nothing goes inside or reflects back to us. We have to make our own call, sir.”

  “I wish I had a rock,” said Dobrina.

  “What, sir?” I asked, not understanding the analogy.

  “Just an expression from back home. Wish I had a rock to drop down the well so we could tell how deep the water is,” she said.

  “I would say the only way to tell how deep the water is, Captain Kierkopf, is to let Commander Cochrane and me get on with our EVA,” chimed in Serosian.

  “I wish I had an argument against that, but I don’t,” said Dobrina. “Proceed.”

  It took us fifteen minutes to don and check our EVA suits before heading to the airlock and depressurizing.

  “Take us down to one hundred meters,” ordered Serosian.

  “Why so close?” came Dobrina’s scratchy response in our coms.

  “Because we only have twice that much in EVA tether,” replied the Historian. There was no reply but the yacht started moving closer to the black field. It was eerie. The field was exactly like the one Marker and I had encountered at the colony base, but the circumstances gave me a serious case of the willies. I shook off my anxiety as the yacht slowly ground to a halt. I watched Serosian attach his tether and then open the airlock’s outer door. He wasted no time in proceeding out, using a short burst from his cone jets. I attached my tether and followed suit, just a few meters behind him.

  “How do you intend to proceed?” asked Dobrina on our private com line.

  “I’ll go in first,” said Serosian. “When I am clear on the other side I will yank on my tether three times. That will be Peter’s signal to proceed. Once he is clear on the other side he will also signal you. From there, communication will depend on what the environment beyond the event horizon allows us to do.”

  “I don’t like it,” said Dobrina.

  “Do you have an alternative?” asked Serosian. Her line stayed silent for a moment as I listened in while my superiors debated.

  “No,” she finally admitted. “Make communication your top priority, if possible. I want to know what’s going on at all times. And remember that HuK is still out there.”

  “Understood,” replied Serosian.

  “You have two hours and fifty-two minutes of environment to complete your dive, gentlemen. I suggest you get on with it,” she finished.

  “Activating my suit camera,” said Serosian. I did the same. At least until we crossed the unknown barrier the yacht would be able to receive our camera images.

  I watched as Serosian used a burst from his jets and accelerated toward the blackness. The dark field was all-enveloping now, extending to either side of us in every direction. I was anxious and looked around to get my bearings but could scarcely make out distant details of the object’s surface. I turned my attention back to Serosian just in time to see him vanish suddenly and completely beyond the event horizon.

  My heart pounded in my chest.

  “Are you all right, Cochrane?” came Dobrina’s voice in my ear.

  “Affirmative,” I croaked out, my mouth dry and stale. I watched for anxious seconds as Serosian’s tether extended to its full length. For a moment I worried the three tugs wouldn’t come.

  And then they did. I sighed, fogging my visor.

  “Note that we’ve lost Serosian’s camera and com,” said Dobrina. “You’ll be on your own on the other side.”

  “Acknowledged,” I said, then tapped my cone jets to life, moving toward the abyss.

  It seemed to take hours as I closed on the blackness, extending my arms in front of me, my breathing becoming harsh and jagged.

  The surface of the void rippled as my hands penetrated the barrier, like dark water disturbed by a tiny pebble. The material swished and formed around my arms, then they simply disappeared into the void. The blackness penetrated my visor plate and I tried in vain to scream, but couldn’t.

  Darkness filled my mouth.

  I wanted to vomit, but I managed to hold off. It was like the darkness had been inside of me, as if I could still feel it in my body. I shuddered and held my stomach, fighting the urge to retch again.

  “Are you all right, Peter?” It was Serosian’s voice, clear and jolting in my ears.

  “I think so,” I said between coughing fits.

  “The experience is unpleasant, I have to admit,” he shared. “I think it likely this type of null-energy field is used as a filter to keep anything unwanted out. Apparently, humans are allowed to pass through. I doubt it would feel the same if we came through with an active Hoagland Field protecting us, though.”

  “That’s some comfort, I guess,” I said as I fought for and regained my bearings. We were free-floating inside an empty chamber many hundreds of meters in circumference and multiple times as deep. It was awesome in scale, if not in its decor. The chamber was filled with what I could only describe as trash and debris, and it looked for all the world like a loading dock for spacecraft. I glanced around. There were no spacecraft now, just the detritus of a long-abandoned outpost floating past us on all sides. I reached down to unhook the tether at my waist and join Serosian, who was some fifty meters “down” from me. I spun as I took hold of the hook and looked out into space. Beyond the event horizon I could see the yacht holding her position, her image clouded by waves of energy, like ripples on a pond. My tether distorte
d as it passed through the surface of the membrane and into normal space.

  “We can see out,” I commented as I unhooked and gave the tether three tugs, indicating to my captain that I had arrived safely on the other side.

  “Yes,” commented the Historian. He said nothing more as I engaged a short burst from my jets and joined him. We were looking down on a flat metal landing bay, empty now and devoid of any spacecraft. There were bridges leading off of the platform in multiple directions like the threads of a spiderweb, with large gantry towers attached to the perimeter. We continued our dive with short bursts, taking us down to the platform surface. Once there, Serosian engaged his gravity assist at one-tenth weight and I followed suit. Our orientation now shifted to the plane of the platform surface. It was huge.

  “How far did we come in?” I asked. Serosian checked his distance calculator.

  “Five hundred meters or so. And this deck is at least three times that size in circumference,” he said.

  “We could stack a dozen Lightships here.”

  “More like dozens,” he replied. “But that’s not why we’re here.” In my curiosity I couldn’t help but take in the view while Serosian began tracking the hyperdimensional signal from the Relic. The supporting gantries, now long abandoned, loomed over the platform. Their control rooms towered stories above us; their function had obviously been to monitor activity here at the landing deck. This had once been a bustling station, that was certain, but how long ago?

  “I have a signal,” said the Historian. “The exact direction is unclear, but I would say . . . that way.” He pointed to one of a half-dozen spider-legged bridges leading off the platform.

  “You’re not certain?” I asked. “I thought the Relic wanted to be found?”

  “It does, but not by just anyone,” said the Historian. I thought I detected a slight tone of annoyance in his voice. “This way.” He started off and I followed, our boots gripping just enough to allow us the motion of natural walking without much effort, keeping us stuck to the metal deck.

  “I’m having difficulty getting an exact fix on the chamber we’re looking for,” he said as we walked. “Much of this superstructure is metal, but there are also high concentrations of crystal in the walls and the inner rooms. It’s making the signal bounce around like a loud voice in an echo chamber.” As he said this, we walked across a bridge with no rails. Beneath us the hollow center of the “diamond” dropped off for what seemed like miles. The Historian was completely unfazed by it all.

  “How deep is this . . . object?” I asked, steering myself away from the edge while I looked down at the endless series of rooms and compartments below us, dropping off into a mist of infinity, some of them clearly shattered open by violence of some sort.

  “This is a station,” Serosian said. “It has been disguised to look like a natural asteroid in the Levant solar system. We’ve seen this level of construction before, on the same scale.”

  I took time to digest that information as we explored, eventually coming to a landing that led off to innumerable corridors. Again the Historian pointed, this time down the central corridor of a nearby group of three. “That way,” he said.

  “You’re certain?” I asked. He shook his head.

  “The instruments that I would need to be certain probably do not exist. But the signal leads us here,” he said, then started down the corridor. I followed, and after a few twists and turns I was certain we were descending.

  “This path is slightly inclined,” I said.

  “Yes, likely this will go on for some time,” he replied.

  “Is that a guess?” He shook his head inside his visor.

  “A supposition,” he said. Now it was my turn to make one.

  “You’ve been on one of these stations before,” I stated. He looked at me as we walked side-by-side down the corridor.

  “This is one of the smaller ones,” he said. I shivered a bit at that thought, then looked down at my suit readouts to distract myself.

  “Two hours and fourteen minutes of environment left,” I said.

  “Noted,” he replied. Then we walked on in silence, every step taking us deeper and deeper into the unknown.

  The last four levels were pure crystal. Our helmet lights reflected off literally millions of faceted surfaces. It was confusing as hell to me, but Serosian soldiered on, never taking his eyes from his peculiar detection instruments and never wavering in his determination. Suddenly he took a surprising hard right turn and we were there, standing in front of a crystallized covey just big enough for us both, our lights reflecting rainbows off prisms in a thousand directions.

  “Is this it?” I asked. Serosian bent down.

  “What we seek is beyond this wall,” he replied as he ran his instruments over dozens of pointed crystalline surfaces. They looked to me like they were growing out of the wall.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he passed a glowing wand over the crystals, emitting a pure white light from its tip.

  “Trying to match frequencies with the crystals,” he said, not breaking his pace. I looked down at my watch. One hour thirty-eight minutes. We were getting close to a point-of-no-return decision.

  “The crystals have a frequency?” I asked casually, taking my mind off of our time predicament.

  “All living things have a vibrational frequency,” he replied, apparently implying that the station was “living.” “The crystals act as energy transducers, converting one form of energy to another. If I can match their inductive frequency, I can likely crack the code.”

  “Crack the code?” I said. I heard him let out a chuckle.

  “Then we’ll have to pass the test,” he said.

  “Test?” But he said nothing more. I stood dutifully by as he continued his work, unsure whether to be terrified or encouraged. After several minutes of this the wand glowed gold in his gloved hand.

  “I’ve matched the vibrational wave,” he said. “Now as to the test . . .” he trailed off, his eyes searching as the crystals began to glow in a slow sequential pattern.

  “Is this the test?” I asked.

  “Quiet!” he snapped. I watched as his eyes followed the sequence of lights emanating from the crystals. It seemed to me that it was repeating, with a very small pause between the sequences. I counted them all the third time through. Then the lights all went dark.

  “Is . . . is that it?”

  “Yes,” he responded. “It’s a riddle, or more precisely a mathematical sequence. Usually some form of universal constant, but I don’t know if I follow this one . . .” He trailed off. I could see he was struggling with the code. I looked down at my timer. One-hour twenty-two minutes to go. We were cutting our point-of-no-return time tight.

  “There were fourteen lights in the sequence, if that helps,” I said as precious seconds clicked by, unable to contain myself.

  “What?”

  “Fourteen flashes. I counted them. And they moved right to left across the panel,” I said. He looked at me and smiled.

  “Adonai eloheinu adonai,” he said, then started working feverishly.

  “Is that the code?” I asked. He shook his head inside his helmet as he adjusted the instrument.

  “No. It’s the fourteen-letter name of God in ancient Hebrew. It also happens to be a mathematical constant, which are used often by the Founders. Each of the letters has a corresponding numerical value that can be related into any written language. It’s like a universal code, which, with your timely insight, we are about to crack.” He pointed the light wand at the now dark crystals and activated it. Light projected from the wand in a series of pulses, reflecting off of the crystal wall. After the sequence completed, we waited for what seemed an eternity before the crystals once more repeated the sequence back to us.

  Then the crystal wall dissolved away.

  We walked through the opening.
Inside, the room was shaped like a sphere made of crystals, with the walls completely covered in geometrical patterns: triangles and hexagons, interspaced and woven together in a seamless pattern and glowing red. It was two decks high to the top of the sphere and perhaps half a deck down from the door. The only flat surface inside was another narrow bridge that led from the opening to the center of the room. The center was occupied by a round pedestal, and above the pedestal floated an opaque turquoise star with six sides to it. It looked like it was made of a ceramic material rather than the crystal we saw everywhere else.

  I followed Serosian across the bridge, not looking down as we approached. The Historian took the star in his hands, and I was happy to let him stay in the lead. I’d had quite enough ancient-human creepiness for one day. He pulled the star from its protective suspensor field and then rotated it, looking for an opening or lever of some kind.

  “There’s no obvious means of opening the Relic,” he said. I looked at my timer again.

  “We should take it with us,” I suggested. “We’re getting close on time.” He looked perturbed but nodded.

  We were down to the red line, thirty minutes to go, by the time we got back to the platform. From there we disengaged our gravity boots and jetted up to our waiting tether lines. This time I didn’t hesitate—I flew through the membrane as fast as I dared, getting the unpleasant experience over with as quickly as possible. Fractions of a second later my com burst to life.

  “. . . calling. Can you hear me? Emergency situation. Repeat, emergency situation.” It was Layton’s voice.

  “Cochrane here. We’ve got the Relic,” I reported. Immediately Dobrina jumped on the line.

  “Then get your asses back over here! That damned HuK is on the move again!” she said.

  “Acknowledged,” I replied. I looked to Serosian as he emerged from the membrane, the Relic in tow. “We’ll be inside in five minutes.”

  “Make it three,” said the captain, “Or we may just leave without you.”