Forbidden The Stars

by Valmore Daniels

  There was a moment’s hesitation as George considered his reply. “Officially, it never existed. But—” He sighed ponderously. “I have a copy on digital.”

  “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to transfer it to my LAN at Quantum Resources here in Toronto? I wouldn’t ask otherwise, but I have a bit of a vested interest in all aspects of this investigation.”

  “Yeah, I know.” George took a few breaths. “All right, but I’ll send it through a proxy mesh service, so there’s no official log, and no immediate link to me, even though, officially, the interview is no longer considered NASA property, but declassified and Public Domain; my Supervisor might not see it that way. It’s a lengthy video, so the upload might take a few minutes.”

  “That’s perfectly fine. Here’s my mesh address.” He typed it onto the video transfer so that it appeared at the bottom of Markowitz’s DMR casement. The NASA investigator copied it to his mailer.

  “Maybe you can do me a favor in return,” Markowitz suggested. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Of course.”

  Markowitz’s demeanor transformed over the course of the conversation. He became more relaxed and eager, finding someone interested in his work.

  “I would like to meshmail you my resume. I’ve been keeping up with your press releases, and reading your meshpage. I think you could use someone with a knack for gathering information. It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with NASA. I’ll be honest; there is a personality conflict between me and my supervisor. I…married his sister when we were all in university, and he’s never forgiven me for that.

  “Circumstances threw us into the same department a few months back, and he won’t authorize a transfer for me. I don’t mean to burden you with personal problems, sir, but just wanted you to appreciate my motivations.”

  Michael cocked his head. “I can’t promise you anything right now. If we don’t find any more samples of Element X, it might be me peddling my resume around town. But I will take a look at it and give it due consideration.”

  “That’s all I could ask. Thank you. I’ll transfer the interview file shortly, after I log on to my mesh service.”

  “Thank you.”

  They disconnected the transmission, and Michael decided to go get a fresh coffee while he waited for the download. By the time he got back, his inbox had a new item.

  There were two messages from George Markowitz. The first was his resume. Michael quickly perused it, and found himself growing increasingly impressed with the man’s qualifications and career history. They were wasting him as a junior investigator at NASA’s R&D department.

  He was thinking, Raymond could use a catch-all information analyst like this, and forwarded the resume to his assistant.

  Then Michael opened the second message.

  It was straightforward.

  “Here is the file you requested.”

  Michael loaded the file into his DMR AVOT Viewer, donned his equipment: earmask for audio, and ocular cap for visual. There were also the options of a nose filter for olfactory input, and even a full electronic suit for the full tactile experience, both of which he opted out of. Michael was more interested in the context of the interview than smelling anyone’s perspiration.

  He ran the interview.

  __________

  Orcus 1 :

  Sol System :

  Luna Approach:

  Justine had been in space four times before. Every time she returned home, she had watched in rapt fascination as the Earth began as a tiny speck against the black backdrop of space, and slowly grew to the size of a walnut on the monitor screens. As the days progressed, the blue orb gradually encompassed her entire range of vision. She loved this part of it, and looked forward to it every time.

  There was little else for Justine to do on final Earth approach. The ship’s navigation computer handled most everything. A human observer was only needed in case the NASA guidance computer lost contact with the ship. When not in the observation lounge, Justine spent the days whiling away in her cabin, going over her notes of Alex, and of the coup that had taken both him and the CSE TAHU. She wondered whether she should have been able to predict any of it, or could have prevented it from happening.

  Standard procedure did not include the event of space piracy. Justine had to use her judgment; and that had resulted in disaster. She knew she should not blame herself, but there were those in the Administration who would blame her, especially those seeking promotion who would use this incident as their own personal stepping stool for promotion.

  Her chances of redeeming herself were practically non-existent.

  She was on the verge of penning her resignation, with plans to rejoin the Lowell Observatory, when her communicator chime captured her attention.

  Depressing the receive button, she mumbled a desultory, “Mmm-hmmn?”

  Helen’s voice came over the non-video communication transfer. “Priority message to you from Director Tuttle, ma’am.”

  “I’ll take it in here.”

  “Very good.”

  Justine’s computer beeped a few seconds later, indicating that it had accepted the data dump and was ready for her perusal. She depressed the appropriate commands, and on her small DMR screen, the NASA Director’s face appeared.

  The Captain of the Orcus 1 listened carefully to all Director Tuttle had to say; then, her heart pounding with barely suppressed excitement, saved the message on the public drive, and immediately called a meeting of all crew and science team members.

  *

  In the Command Bridge, she waited until everyone was assembled before addressing them.

  “I have just received a priority message from Director William Tuttle. I won’t waste time on any lengthy preamble trying to explain the content of the message. Instead, I will play it back for you, and let you come to your own choices.”

  At the use of the word “choices” everyone began to talk at once. Justine waved her hand at them for silence, then she motioned for Helen to begin replay of the message on the large DMR in the Command Bridge.

  Director Tuttle’s face appeared when the NASA insignia faded into the background.

  “Justine,” the image said. “Conferencing with both the heads of the Canadian Space Exploration, and with the CEO of USA, Inc., we have come to a unanimous agreement to launch a return mission to Pluto, exclusive to both our country corporations. This has been achieved in compliance with a new contract between Canada Corp., its subsidiary, CSE, and with USA, Inc. and its subsidiary NASA. As well, the new joint-partnership corporation, Quantum Resources, Inc., which has been set up to exclusively study the phenomenon of the asteroid, Macklin’s Rock, its sole surviving occupant, Alex Manez, and all aspects of the mysterious Element X.

  “However, since the bulk of our scientific evidence has been pirated from the Orcus 1, including Alex Manez, the information concerning our plans, and our future agenda, has been brought into the public spotlight. Under amendment of our initial exclusive contract with Quantum Resources and its parent companies, we have agreed to offer limited partnerships on this new mission to Pluto, to be called the Orcus 2 mission, to all original participants of Orcus 1. No doubt the space agencies concerned will be EPSing messages to your crew and scientific team presently; so I have taken the initiative to warn you and inform you of these developments.

  “It is our consensus that any member of the crew or Scientific team who wish to extend their tour to the Orcus 2, and return to Pluto, may do so. For those who are ordered back by their respective space agencies, or do not wish to participate in the Orcus 2 mission, we have made arrangements for the Orcus 1 to rendezvous with the Lunar Station, instead of returning home. Flight trajectories will be uploaded into your ship’s navigation computer within a few hours.

  “There, at Luna Station, a crew transfer will be initiated, as well as a refit and restock of supplies. There will be a two-week shore leave on Lunar Station following a debriefing.

  “Both mysel
f and the CEO of USA, Inc. extend our most hopeful request that you should head up this subsequent mission, Captain, if it is your wish. In return, we will be extending your tenure, and offering you a substantial flight and mission bonus. We leave it to you whether you wish to present this news to your crew, or wait until they are contacted by their respective space agencies. Your replies will be required no less than twelve hours from the time of this transmission.

  “Director Tuttle, out.”

  Justine turned in her command chair and watched as members of the Orcus 1 began the process of realizing that their initial mission, although it had technically failed, still brought reward. Most of them would be given the opportunity to try a second time.

  The pall that had settled over the members of the ship over the past six months, and more especially, after the pirate attack, had suddenly lifted with the news that they would be going back to Pluto.

  “We all have some thinking to do—” Justine began, but was interrupted by Helen Buchanan.

  “Sorry, Captain, but I don’t require any time. The minute the CSE sends me the offer, I’m going to EPS back that I’m staying for the duration. I know I don’t have much to do with the scientific aspects of this mission, but I’ve always been one to see it through to the end. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  One by one, the members of the science team agreed with the First Mate’s sentiments, in their own words. Not only were their careers going to be saved by this opportunity and their professional sense of duty appeased, but their personal ambitions to unlock the secrets of Pluto and Dis Pater were being granted in a way none of them had even entertained.

  In the end, Sakami Chin bowed out when the order from the People’s Republic of China Space Agency ordered him to return to their country, to be replaced by Chin’s esteemed colleague, Dr. Soon Tek.

  Justine, however, was going back to Pluto, and nothing was going to stop her.

  __________

  Quantum Resources, Inc. :

  Toronto :

  Canada Corp.:

  George Markowitz had personally traveled to Honduras to get the interview.

  Being one of the Senate’s favorite hobbies, NASA benefited through generous government corporate transfers, and was able to buy the latest in high-tech equipment. Quantum Resources did not have an AVOT, or Virtual Tourist Camera (the name by which they were marketed in the private sector), in their inventory, but luckily, the output could easily be played on any DMR casement with a specialized adapter.

  Michael had the option of viewing the flat screen output (slightly distorted), or taking in the full 270° visual 3D audio and full factory and tactile experience of the Virtual Tourist operator.

  The VT Camera took samples of the air around the helmet the operator donned, and recorded the scents as part of its database of over sixteen thousand smells. When played back, the DMR could, if the option were desired, give off a small spray of one of its twenty-three basic scents, and send electronic pulses to the brain that tricked it into thinking the viewer was smelling the smells in the field.

  Normally, those wanting to go on a virtual vacation without leaving their homes or offices on lunch break used the full experience tapes.

  Michael’s interest was purely business. He turned off the extra features, and just used the VR helmet to watch the A/V interview.

  [Copan : Honduras : Central American Conglomeration]

  A great eastern city of the ancient Mayans, Copan was now nothing more than a tiny village of less than five thousand residents forty miles outside of the much larger Departmental Capital, Santa Rosa de Copan. It was in the smaller village that Mr. Markowitz first donned his Virtual Tourist and turned it on.

  A map of the area appeared superimposed for half a minute over the picture.

  “We are here in the mountainous region of Honduras, near the site of the ancient Mayan City of Copan. It is the home of the Mayan Indian who originally translated the hieroglyphs we found on the artifact, Dis Pater.

  “The man, Yaxche, named after the tree of heaven, is said by the locals to be the only one in Copan Departmental who can still accurately translate the earliest forms of pictograms from the ruins of ancient Copan city.”

  The image on the DMR, taken from the perspective of George Markowitz, showed a dirt road defined by a number of ramshackle houses running down its length, the houses themselves on the verge of ruins.

  Sitting on a handcrafted rocking chair at the nearest house was an old man, short, stocky, deeply tanned with black hair and a remarkably round head. He grinned as George approached. Not all of his teeth had survived the many decades of the old Indian’s life.

  “This is Yaxche,” George said.

  Yaxche rocked once, twice, and grinned deeper as George arrived at the front of the house. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and said, “Ahyah. Heloo.”

  “Good day, sir. I’m George Markowitz from NASA in the United States. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

  Still grinning like a fool, the old man blinked and replied, “Ahyah.”

  “You are the man who translated some hieroglyphs for us last summer?”

  “Ahyah.” He clicked his tongue. “I read some of the old writing. Goozal Kinich Ahua; Inti ba Rahn; Goozal Kukulcan.”

  George translated from memory. “Beware the Mighty Door of Kinich Ahua; Eternity is now Before You; Beware the Power of Kukulcan.”

  “Ahyah. You remember. Very good.”

  “Thanks. Now, we have heard from some of the scholars in Santa Rosa de Copan that you have in your possession a document that dates back over a thousand years old, but they have not been able to appropriate it from you or this village.”

  “It is legacy,” Yaxche said, still grinning. “Belong to Copan. One day I will pass on to Mitnal, maybe go with Hunab Ku—I don’t know where I will go, who will take me. That day, when I pass, it will go to my grandson.”

  *

  Michael wondered why Yaxche grinned so, and then he realized that, to this villager, George must look like some kind of idiot with the Virtual Tourist helmet recorder on his head.

  *

  George asked, “Could I see the document, Sir?”

  “Ahyah.” He turned to face someone off-image, said something in his language, and a boy ran off toward a building down the street.

  George turned back to the Indian. “How did this document come into your possession? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Ahyah. I was given this gift of legacy by my grandfather, Chictzi, who was given it by his grandfather, Colop, who was—”

  “I see.”

  “Ahyah. Maybe you do.”

  Waiting for the young boy to return, George asked, “And how old are you now, Yaxche, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Ohya. Don’t know. Many seasons. Too many for this old man to count. Not to worry. Not many more to count. No. Not many more.”

  Presently, the boy returned with a polished wood box, handed it reverently to Yaxche, and disappeared with the alacrity of any pre-teen, no matter their culture.

  George paid him little attention, and focused on the parchment scroll the Indian began to unravel.

  “Amazing!” was all George could comment.

  Then: “It’s made from what looks like a kind of bark-cloth. Whatever its source, it has lasted for over ten centuries!”

  Yaxche regarded George as a teacher to a pupil. “Ahyah. Made from bark of pine tree; chew until soft and thin, then dry under sun.”

  “Wonderful. What does it say?”

  For a long while, the old man did not reply, turning his gaze to the scroll. It was as if he were lost in the past. Finally, he began his tale.

  “It is a story of the downfall of the Mayan Peoples. Ahyah. For hundreds of seasons, the People were wealthy and prosperous. But we grew complacent. Hunhua, ruler of Mitnal, the realm of the dead, became angry with the People because of their arrogance, and made a plan to gather them to h
is realm.

  “Hunhua whispered in the ear of Ah Hulneb, god of war, and suggested it was time for the People of the South to go to war with the People to the North, the ones you call Aztec.

  “So the People gathered their women and children, and put them on an island to keep them safe; then they went to war.

  “Hanub Ku was creator of the Maya; he had rebuilt the world three times after the three deluges which poured from the mouth of a sky serpent. The first world was for dwarves, who built the cities; the second world was for the Dzolob, the offenders, and the third world was for the Maya. But Hanub Ku was displeased with this war of the Maya and the Aztecs, and decreed the world would be rebuilt again a fourth time for the white man.

  “He sent Kinich Ahua, the firebird god of the sun to come down and burn the Mayan cities while the People were off to war. He sent Kukulcan, the feathered serpent god of all elements, to rise from the oceans and swallow up the island on which all the Mayan women and children were hiding, and take them back into the deep of the sea with him so that the Maya could not breed any more disobeying children.

  “When the People came back from their war with the Aztecs, they saw their cities destroyed, and their families disappeared, and they hung their heads in shame and allowed the Aztec warriors to come and defeat them, to use them as sacrifices to the Aztec gods, and slaves to their kings.

  “Kukulcan was so disappointed in the People’s behavior, that he became Quetzalcoatl and ruled the Aztecs.

  “It is said that Hunab Ku went back to his home in the stars to make plans for the fifth world, after the deluge that would destroy the white man.”

  His tale finished, Yaxche looked up at George expectantly.

  “Incredible,” the NASA researcher said, the DMR image shaking with his head. “If this is to be believed, then the Mayan gods predicted the coming of the white man some five centuries before it happened!”

  “Ayah. It is said to be. And the fifth world is soon to come. But what do I know? I’m just an old man.”