Endless Sky (An Island in the Universe Trilogy Book 1)

by Greg Remy

  Darious let down his hands and marveled at the scene outside. Through the artificial tinting, he was staring at corporeal light. It was about a meter in length, glowing brightly and nearly holding its shape as a triangle with a cupped point at one obtuse corner. “Wha—”

  Without warning, the radiant object exploded again in a frenzy of light, startling Darious, though the star shades were quick to adapt. The vibrations and noises were now so prevalent that Darious could barely hear Zoe yelling, even though she had turned toward him and was nearly in his ear.

  “It’s producing more light than a Category 4 Pulsar!!” She turned back to the control console just as another brighter blast shot out. “Ten-fold luminosity!”

  Darious leaned in to her ear. “Danger?!”

  “No!” she yelled back. “It’s not generating any heat!”

  Darious was confused by this. How can an object be so bright, yet not generate heat? Then a final bright wave bounded from the object and the Doctor’s program went dead. The ship jerked forward, giving both Darious and Zoe immediate whiplash. The vibrations ceased and only a minute humming from deep within the craft remained though was quickly dissipating. Darious looked out and there was once more normal space with its stars and all of infinity, though this was not what his eyes, nor his mind, were keen on. Centered in his perception was a triangular object, once a glowing haze and now, definitely a physical object floating peacefully in space, heedless of the hellfire from which it was born. Zoe made a long-intrigued sound. She typed into the console and brought up a scanning display.

  “It’s...” she trailed off as words seemed to fail her.

  It was now Darious that picked up her thoughts, “...it is… it is...” He was reading through the summary. “...it is metal?!” Looking out at the floating triangle, it now just looked like a piece of space garbage.

  Zoe cleared her throat as Darious wiped away sweat from his brow. Engaging a program, she turned on a spotlight to the object. “What do you suppose that is?” she whispered. “We are out in the middle of space. Space, Darious.”

  The object had retained a similar shape as its bright cocoon, though it was now about half the size. Staring at it, Darious noted it did indeed have a metallic tarnish; it was worn away and its edges were very dull. As the triangle floated in space, it slowly turned and gave the viewers a full look at its inscrutableness. As the edge came to parallel view with the cockpit, Darious saw it was nearly flat. From this view, he could see a smaller triangular architecture within the edge and even smaller concave dimples fitting within each gap.

  “It’s a structure!” said Zoe. “Look at that, it has a support system underneath. It’s been exposed.” She paused. “Darious this is a piece of something. Look at the edge, it’s been ripped off of something.” Darious only nodded. “Good thing is, it doesn’t appear to be a piece of my ship.” Zoe smiled.

  She typed on her console. The spotlight swiftly shifted through many filters, collecting data by each, which was then output to a side projection screen. “Good. Darious, let’s bring it in and get a better look.”

  Slight apprehension momentarily took hold of Darious. “Zoe, we do not know what it is. It could be contaminated, radioactive.”

  “Eh. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She looked over at him and winked. “Anyhow, look at the scan results. It’s a polytitanium ceramic. Nothing biological detected. Nothing life-threatening detected. But you’re right, there’s only so much we can decipher through the looking glass.” She smirked at him. “For the most part, it just looks like a hunk of space junk.”

  Darious nodded. “I had thought so too. However, it was not here a minute ago.” They both stared at the object as it slowly turned in space. He began to feel an itch deep within his mind. Zoe’s curiosity was so very contagious. “Yes, let us bring it in.”

  “Alright, that’s my Darious! But, before I do,” said Zoe, “I want to show you something.” She scrolled through several screens and expanded one, highlighting a section of collected data in soft blue. “This was taken during that last bright episode, just before this little guy showed up. Look, the radiograms went, for a moment, beyond measurable scales both in negative and positive directions. The same is true for the directed spatial accelerometer, active flux-barometer, diodic equalizers, and particulate drivers. That last one doesn’t even make sense! How can we have an overload of negative particulate flow in space!? That thing out there is definitely in no way normal.” She stared at Darious with eyes like full moons.

  “It would seem then,” said Darious with a grin of almost unreserved enthusiasm, “all the more reason to bring it in and take a look.”

  Chapter 28

  Let History Make Its Own Judgments

  The itch, concentrated at the pharynx, though having originated from peregrinate aspirations of youth, was ever-present, at least as far back as anamnesis could affirm. The withered throat stifled a cough and a long wheeze was let out from parched lips. Crevices of age led from this dry well, surfacing the cheeks toward the eyes, hazy in the dusk of life. Captain Daggar once more cleared his throat. With a rheumatic hand, he gently stroked his neck and winced. The shaky hand laid back down on the armrest and he became an entirely motionless mass, motionless except for the ebb and flow of slow, strained breaths upon his chest. His eyes lowered, and consciousness with them, as the tide of torpidity rose.

  The potential, now realized under a diadem of buttons and switches, was centered in an ellipsoidal throne room of shadowed indigo. Commandeering atop the tired-out throne, a single denizen remained at the helm—no internal lighting to see with and no skylights to be seen from, albeit from the bow where a single window carved a forward view into deep space. Shown through this aperture were the furthest sights any man had ever envisaged. Though Captain Daggar, at his waking moments knew this, the joyous celebratory times had elapsed and his heart no longer palpitated at this grand achievement. Oh, how long had it been? His crew, his coequals, had long passed. He, the original captain of this exploratory vessel, was the last and would be with it to the end.

  The human race; oh, how proud they had left their brethren; how glorious the ceremony and the crowds were at their departure; how noble a position such as his—to lead the first deep space mission past Alpha Centauri and countless interstellar objects and to witness firsthand which only mirrors and silver had observed before. The spacecraft he was to command was the paramount achievement from the disciplines of both physics and engineering. The ship could almost fly alongside the colors of the rainbow, reaching with its wingtips for that universal speed. How long had it been? Captain Daggar had not turned on the computer console in some time; the panorama of pure space was all he desired; time need not apply. The crew had all known, as they hugged loved their ones and shook hands with those come to wish them farewell; icy space would be their final tomb. But they had not shed tears, for they had dedicated their lives to their purpose—to the advancement of mankind beyond that single watery globe.

  Years and years of service on behalf of humanity passed. Old age became them, and elderly corpses were jettisoned with heartfelt salutes. The Captain alas was the last. Oh, how long had it been? A terrible cough ignited from the withered man and he erupted into a coughing fit, bending low in his seat. It passed soon enough and once upright, Captain Daggar leaned his head to the side and stared, as he did at nearly every waking hour, out to the black yonder. The mission was over. It had been for many years. Success. Now, to simply enjoy retirement. He had no apprehension about this as it would surely be a peaceful death, an honorable one, and a courageous one. Multitudes of years had passed since he had last contacted Earth, or they him. All the goodbyes, farewells, and salutes had been expressed. How long had it been? Captain Daggar’s eyes once more shuttered and dreamless sleep became him.

  Unbeknownst to the great Captain, a glow had begun to infuse the cockpit with diffused lambency, slowly increasing over the last several days, though hidden from him by the gloom of g
laucoma. The light had been thickening as an inbound waterborne fog, and like such fog, it remained unbound by a linear trajectory, seeming to fill every crack and void by its own volition. Densest at the cockpit window and even greater beyond, it wafted in like vapors of cardice from a bottle, heedless of the glass barrier.

  A low snore instigated a cough and once more the old man was bent low wheezing. From this agony, shrills of pain were sent forth from each guttural outburst. His hands trembled about his face as he sought to capture expulsions from each cough. Though his skin and throat were deserts upon the living terrain, the pain squeezed from this draught land a single tear.

  Even in such a long-expired state, he was not woeful; his life had not been forsaken. Of all the places he could be, this was undoubtedly the one he would choose—amongst the stars. The coughing slowly subsided and he was soon able to lean back in his seat, sucking in much needed air. With renewed cognizance, he now secerned the glow enshrouding the cockpit. It had suddenly surged in strength, as if it were the coming dawn. Captain Daggar’s mind indeed deceived him for a moment, as he saw himself striding through the wheat fields of his childhood; the morning sun stretching toward and then past him as the golden rays reached for the horizon. The Captain quickly regained his temperance. His heart thudded as the light continued to increase with exponential luminosity. Had the navigational systems erred? Was the ship plummeting into the heliosphere of some star? Had all the crew gone? He thought to call out to them. Where had they gone? The great white light, now blinding all senses, completely enveloped the ship. Captain Daggar’s heart beat faster. Where was Marissa? Where had she gone? Like a tsunami towering above a schooner, the prodigious light swelled with immeasurable power and nullified the ship from existence. Oh, how long had it been?

  Chapter 29

  A Sparkler in Time

  “2,179 years!”

  Zoe held the metallic piece in her hand. “2,179 years! Darious! Look at the carbon readings!” She turned it over, revealing the lined metallic body. “Look at this construction! And pulled from the vacuum of space!” They peered in as closely as their eyes could focus.

  “What is it?” Darious finally asked.

  “It has to be a relic. From the dating, it could only possibly be from ancient Earth-1.” She handed it to Darious, who took it cautiously and rotated it, so the light reflected at different angles. “We must experiment!” she stated and was off to the central chamber, collecting components from the ship’s multitudinous drawers. Though Darious’ body had followed her, his eyes and mind remained fixed on the object. Zoe emptied drawer after drawer, tossing gizmos and cables over her shoulders.

  Darious had the sudden worried thought that the bright light which had borne this object had possibly been emitted far through space. “Zoe, do you think perhaps we should move from our current location?” His eyes never left the relic in his soft grasp.

  “Good idea,” responded Zoe, still turned away from him. She tossed an old computer console backwards, which landed with a foul crash and fragmented into several pieces. “Oops,” she said apathetically. She looked down at the broken electronics and then over at Darious as he frowned. “Darious, what only matters now is properly identifying that space debris; exactly when and exactly where it came from.” Darious understood. He knew he was holding something very special in his hands, he could feel it. Zoe continued digging deeper through her things. “Take us starboard about .05 floating-parsecs out, so we can continue to monitor the site but are far enough away to be a speck to anyone else.”

  “Aye Captain. ahh... what shall I do with this?” She turned and smiled upon seeing Darious coddling the object.

  “Oh, you two continue to bond. Just, don’t drop it.” Turning back, she was once more absorbed in her search. Darious went and seated himself at the captain’s chair with the metallic cherub in his lap and navigated the craft as instructed.

  Zoe soon came into the cockpit, hauling a large gauge cable. “Darious, mind opening that portside panel for me?” Setting the relic on the console, he bent low and gripped the top of the panel with his fingertips. He pried off the clamps, exposing various connection ports. Zoe dropped the heavy cable and sat on the floor next to him. “Let’s see...” She fumbled around inside, pushing around wires and peering into the depths of the craft.

  “Here Captain.” He thrust his arm deep into the organs of the ship and pulled out the proper coupling line.

  “Ah bingo! Sharp eyes, Sir.” She happily took it from him and connected it to her own. A buzzing began from the central chamber.

  “What are you preparing back there?”

  “Come look.” She paused. “How far out are we?”

  Darious helped up Zoe and looked over at the console. “.048 floating-parsecs out. I’ve set the ship to auto-stop when we are there.”

  “Good. Good. Okay, come on. Oh, and bring the... baby.” She winked at him.

  Perched upon a telescoping table in the center of the room with equipment all around it, as if offerings to an altar, was a black machine. A myriad of cords rounded out from this box, circumnavigated it, and reentered at other sides. There were many dials on all faces and a large projection display along its long end.

  “Mind the cables,” said Zoe, pointing downward. She fiddled with the machine’s controls and a depressurizing sound escaped from its backside. Then, the device’s top opened, revealing a hollow interior with dotted white walls and a silver grill on its bottom. “Set it in there.”

  Darious eased the relic into the cradle. “I’m going to perform a Sparkler Test to determine this object’s origin, hopefully without vaporizing it since it wiggles the molecules of the test item.” She typed into the controller and the box sealed shut. “Basically, I’m going to fire resonance nodes of high voltage waves throughout it and collect the data three-dimensionally. The real magic comes through the programming of this little guy. “It may take several minu—” A ding sounded from the machine.

  “Oh. It’s done.” The machine’s lid opened, releasing steamed air smelling of soldered wires. Darious reached in to grab the relic. “Wait!” exclaimed Zoe. He quickly pulled back his hand. “It’s going to be very hot. Excited molecules equal heat.”

  “Indeed so,” he replied, cupping the hands that were almost no more.

  “Give it a few minutes; it’ll cool quickly. Onwards! Let’s see where our little friend hails from.” Zoe headed to the cockpit with Darious trailing her. She took to her seat and brought up the results from the test. Many screens appeared around the console with virtual data covering from the top of the cockpit’s window to the floor. Darious bent forward, reading the box of information closest to him.

  “It says here,” said Darious, “that this piece was made from a metal level treatment technique used thousands of years ago. Date of material cohesion was 2064.”

  “That concurs with our initial test. So far, so good.” Zoe read from another information box. “Database analysis suggests it was manufactured by a Space-Z Incorporated plant in the northern hemisphere of Earth-1. Ah-ha! Told ya it was from Earth!”

  Darious skipped over to the next projected box. “It is from a ship called the ‘Origin-X.’”

  Zoe diminished all screens and searched the term. Shown large and centered in front of them was the data sheet for the spaceship Origin-X along with its mission log. “Oh my,” Zoe said, leaning in as she read. “I’ve heard of this ship.” She turned to Darious, her eyes beaming into him until the heat of her gaze nearly made him melt. “Darious, this is a piece of Origin-X. It was the first deep space mission from Earth! Oh my!”

  “Wow!” Darious was wide eyed. “How... but how!?”

  Zoe continued reading. “‘…sent out to observe several exoplanets and study the impact of deep space on organic life. After completing its mission, with the legendary Captain Daggar at the helm—’ I’ve seen him before in history books...” Zoe seemed to lose her vector of thought as if reliving an echoed memory and then sh
ook it off. “I remember it was a one-way mission. They had traveled the furthest any human had ever gone, and they held the record for some time after that. I believe it was something like twenty-five floating-parsecs; a real achievement in those days. It says here the ship was never recovered.” She held her hand out to the text. “I guess I assumed it was in a museum somewhere.” She looked back up at Darious and in a mesmerized tone asked, “What the hell is going on?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “‘Soon after Origin-X’s mission retirement, contact was only deemed necessary if specially requested and after a 6-month sleeper period, contact was lost. The flight path had been thought to have been precisely extrapolated. Optical and radio telescopes were utilized by the global community in hopes of spotting the vessel, though there were no confirmed sightings. Once the region of its course was inhabited, in the year 2459, an effort to locate the craft was undertaken. Specially tuned echo-location probes searched the region but no remains or any evidence of Origin-X were ever found.’” Zoe brought up the flight path for the ship and whipped through many screens. Darious tried to follow her swift work but became lost as she compiled batches of information faster than he could interpret. “Jeeze,” she said. “Do you realize its trajectory was in the opposite direction from us, on the other side of the galaxy? According to its route, it should have never even been in our current quadrant of space. It should be half the galaxy away from us!” She typed a quick search into the console. The result came back momentarily. “No combination of heavy star swing-bys can naturally account for it.”

  Zoe got up and returned with the triangular piece of Origin-X in her hands. “How did you get here?” she nearly whispered at the object.

  Darious brought back up the result screens from the Sparkler Test alongside the digital schematics of the craft. “This looks to be the starboard wingtip of it.” He then brought up a file photo—a promotional shot of the ancient craft docked at a rudimentary space station. The ship was long and narrow, outfit with many large archaic rockets utilizing liquid fuel. It had several wings at different angles along its fuselage. Toward its aft side were the two largest wings, extending far beyond the others. A single black strip lined the perimeter of each edge. Atop the wings were numeric identifiers, as well as several symbols from the time period. The vessel shimmered in the sun, just beyond the photo’s line of sight, and seemed to be glowing by the sanctity of its maiden voyage.