Sanchez found a nice level crater and set the scout down. After securing the ship, the pair found themselves pouring over some of the volumes of data they had collected that day.
“For the hundredth time,” said Sanchez as she sipped from a water container, “it’s just incredible. Carr, do you think these could be people from some human settlement that we lost contact with after the Diaspora. A few colony ships from that time went out toward the Rim, in the opposite direction from our ancestors. Maybe they established settlements that grew into starholds and now they’ve returned to recolonize Earth. They might not even know about the Sarissan Union or the Renaissance Sector, let alone the Quarantine Treaty.”
“Well, someone knows about us because they’ve been attacking our outposts,” Carr pointed out. “And that still doesn’t explain the tech gap. Whoever these people are, they seem quite a bit ahead of us scientifically. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe they’ve had help,” Sanchez said. “Maybe they’ve had the alien contact that we’re still waiting on.”
“You mean they have little green friends. That’s a disturbing thought,” Carr said as he finished off his second CRP of the journey, a bland serving of tree hen and rice.
“Sanchez, how do you think the Theodora stumbled onto all of this? The analysis of their information put them somewhere beyond the asteroid belt when they gathered their data. With the jamming system we saw today, that gas miner shouldn’t have been able to see anything but an empty planet and empty space.”
“My guess is that the camouflage system was down for some reason—maintenance, malfunction, whatever. I think Theodora just stumbled into the system at the wrong time.” She took another sip of water then sealed the container. Conservation of supplies on deep space missions was second nature to pilots.
After dinner and winding down for a few moments—Carr listened to some music while Sanchez did more yoga stretches—it was time for sleep. In terms of bedding, the tiny cabin left few options, so they would be sleeping in their reclined pilot and co-pilot chairs.
The ship instrument lighting dimmed and the ambient lights turned soft blue. Trying to go to sleep, Carr noticed for the first time that the air was starting to smell different. It wasn’t dirty or rank, just different. Large spaceships could provide hundreds of people with breathable air for an almost infinite period, but he suspected that after a month in space the air recycling units of this small ship were starting to be challenged. Just another reason he couldn’t wait to get to the planet’s surface—Earth’s surface.
“Carr, do you think we’ll find those people on the surface? Theodora’s crew I mean,” asked Sanchez.
A few seconds went by before he replied. “Get some sleep, Sanchez.”
* * * *
“The time is now zero four-hundred hours. Good morning, Commander Sanchez. Good morning, Captain Carr. The time is now zero four-hundred hours. Good morning, Commander Sanchez. Good morning, Captain Carr…”
“Thank you, Ship!” Sanchez yelled as she jerked awake, straining to sit up. The cabin lights came up slowly and Day Two of the operation began. They took turns in the bathroom and ‘showering.’ To conserve resources, showering involved no water. Carr could never get used to the idea that rubbing gel all over your body and then wiping it off was considered a shower. He realized it was better than nothing, but when this mission was over, taking a long, hot, wet shower was going to feel very satisfying.
The journey to investigate the object at L2 was not planned in the original mission sequence and Sanchez was developing some anxiety about the fuel supply. After some deliberation among the two humans and Ship, it was agreed that they needed to make the L2 run, but there would be no further deviations from the schedule.
Getting to Lagrange Point Two took about forty minutes, but they only went close enough to do some long range, passive scanning. What lay before them were two half-cylindrical structures separated by about three kilometers of space. It looked as though someone had opened up a gigantic metal can, cut it in half, and pushed it apart a couple of miles. Between the two structures, the space was visibly rippling, as if it were a pool of water that someone had thrown a stone into.
“It’s a hypergate,” guessed Sanchez. “But I’ve never seen one being held open continuously like this. The energy needed to do that must be enormous.”
Carr agreed it looked like a hypergate and scans seemed to confirm it, but Kite’s computer was skeptical. All Ship would say was that the structure “did not conform to any known parameter.”
“Wonder where it goes?” asked Carr. “Want to make a dash through the opening and see where we end up?”
“Are you crazy?” Sanchez replied, hoping he was just joking.
Carr grinned at her. “My feeling is that taking care of this is going to be at the top of Admiral Getchell’s ‘to do’ list when the task force arrives.”
“If by ‘taking care of’ you mean blowing it up,” Sanchez said dubiously, “I hope we’re a long way away. Destroying an active hypergate is going to produce one hell of a bang.”
“It’ll have to be dealt with some way,” he responded. “We can’t let any more of those monster warships come through. Just that one looks like it’s going to be hard enough to handle.”
Satisfied that they had identified the structure, Kite headed back to Earth for the day’s main task. All over the planet, ruins of cities dotted the landscape. It was tempting to use Kite’s technology to explore them, to take a trip into the planet’s past life, but they had to stay on mission to meet their timetable. Perhaps another day…
Slowly and carefully settling in about three hundred kilometers over the location of the Earth colony, Kite’s reconnaissance imaging cameras began snapping pictures. The ship’s computer was able to recreate what it saw on the ground so faithfully that it could even make out details like street signage. After several hours of sliding along above the target and gathering information, Sanchez piloted Kite back to their lunar nest, where they spent the rest of the day sifting through the data.
“For the hundred and first time,” Sanchez murmured, “it’s just…”
“Incredible,” Carr finished for her. They both flipped through picture after picture: people walking on streets, children playing in parks—the images could be of any city on Sarissa. “Humans, right down to the hair on their head.”
“Envious?” she asked with a smirk.
“I shave my head, you know that,” Carr said as he sat at one of the data consoles looking through the uploaded information. “If you had been paying attention yesterday when I crawled out of the hypersleep coffin, you would have caught a glimpse of the most glorious head of stubble you’d ever—”
Smiling, she left her workstation to glimpse his monitor. “What do you see? Someone with a shinier—oh, Gods!” she gasped as she quickly raised her right hand to cover her mouth. On the screen before them was a picture of a large sign that Kite’s cameras had captured.
WELCOME TO GREENVIEW SCHOOL
Other signs popped up onto the screen:
RIVERSIDE BANK
CENTRAL HOSPITAL
GENERAL MARKET
“How can that be?” asked Sanchez. “They write in Idolingua? They speak Idolingua? How can they be speaking our language?”
Idolingua was the common language of humanity. It was invented on Earth in the early twentieth century as an auxiliary language. When humankind fled to the stars in the twenty-third century, planets were settled by a hodgepodge of ethnicities and old Earth nationalities. To prevent factionalism from causing friction and all-out war on settlement worlds, the original eleven Renaissance Sector starholds agreed to foster a standard language. To avoid favoring an already established ethnicity, they turned to the constructed language of Ido. Generations of humans had now grown up learning Idolingua in their schools and communities and it had become the dominant language on every known human world.
“We can now scratch the theory about t
hem being from some human world on the Rimward side of Earth,” declared Carr.
“How so?”
“Idolingua was adopted by settlers in the Renaissance Sector. How would the folks on the Rim know that, unless they just happened to pick Ido as their standard language as well? Odds of that happening are, pardon the pun, astronomical. These people aren’t from the Rim.”
“Then where the hell are they from?”
Carr stood and patted her on the shoulder. “Tell you what—tomorrow, let’s just ask one of them.”
For an hour or so, they ate dinner and talked, about anything but the mission. It was starting to wear on them and they both sensed that a change of subject would be good for their mental well-being. Sanchez discussed her childhood on Quijano, her mother and father and yes, her uncle the admiral. She hoped Carr would reciprocate with details of his family, but he recounted some experiences on various assignments and then went into how he had become interested in collecting antiques.
“You know you’re amazing,” remarked Sanchez.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, lots of people collect antiques.”
“Not that,” she said. “You’re amazing in your ability to talk about yourself and say absolutely nothing. Carr, I almost feel that I know less about you the more I talk with you.”
He gave out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Trick of the trade.”
Sanchez finally just decided to risk it. “Your antique collecting, is there a wife or someone special you share that with?”
Carr looked at her and she saw a brief flash of pain in his expression. “No, no one to share it with,” was his only response.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. What about you? You’ve told me about your family, but are there any significant others in the mix?”
She smiled and raked her fingers through her hair. “Oh, a couple guys over the last few years but nothing that really mattered. It always comes down to the same problem—career.”
“Yours?”
“Mine. When things begin to turn serious with a guy, it’s always ‘you should give up this flying stuff, it’s too dangerous.’ And my answer’s always the same.”
“Good. You were born to fly,” Carr said, which provoked a laugh on her part. “No, I’m being serious—you’re an exceptional pilot.”
“Thank you.”
“A person should do what they’re good at, but only if it makes them happy.”
“What about you, Carr? Despite my first rather naive impression, I know you’re good at what you do. But does it make you happy?”
“It used to, but I’ve learned you can’t control everything, no matter how hard you try. I used to live for the mission, for the excitement, the adrenaline rush. But the mission isn’t all there is to life, is it? These days, I go out on missions and can’t wait to get back home,” he confessed, taking the last bite of his buckwheat porridge CRP. “Maybe I just needed a teammate to keep me focused,” he joked.
Sanchez wanted to dig deeper, but her intuition told her to let it go for now. This was as personal as they had spoken with each other and she didn’t want to ruin it. Besides, it was getting late and tomorrow was going to be a big day at the office.
One more night spent on the Moon, and then tomorrow, the Earth landing. Both of them found it difficult to fall asleep. Carr had considered a sedative, but decided against it. Sanchez got the idea of having Ship play some low ambient sounds to try to coax their brains into slumber, so the two of them lay in their reclined seats listening to the sounds of ocean waves crashing onto a shore. Carr thought it was all very surreal, listening to the ocean while trying to snooze on the Moon. Maybe Ship could also whip up a couple of those drinks with little umbrellas in them.
“Carr, you still awake?” asked Sanchez.
“Yeah.”
She hesitated and he could hear her drawing a deep breath. “I’m a little scared about tomorrow.”
“Good,” he said. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be human.”
“Are you scared?”
Carr chuckled. “You mean am I human?” He heard a small giggle from her. “You’ll be fine.”
About a minute passed. “So, you don’t want me to stay with the ship?” she asked.
“No, I don’t want you to stay with the ship.”
“Thanks, Carr.”
“Get some sleep, Sanchez.”
* * * *
Kite glided low over the terrain as it approached the mysterious settlement from the south. Carr was amazed that the ship could fly this low and remain this graceful. He had to confess admiration for the ship designers and her pilot as well. After the last two days, he was convinced that Etta Sanchez was every bit the pilot that Director Tolbert had talked her up to be. I just hope she handles herself half as well on the ground…
The plan was for Sanchez to set Kite down somewhere about ten kilometers outside of the city. They would unload their equipment, place the ship in its ground camouflage mode, then hike to the edge of the settlement to reconnoiter.
That was the plan, but predictably, it started to fall apart as soon as they got close to their objective. Kite’s computer spotted something on the ground about twelve kilometers to the southwest of the settlement and tentatively identified it as her long lost sister, Kestrel. It was important to check out, so Sanchez set them down in a forest clearing about three hundred meters from the other ship.
They approached Kestrel through a wooded area that separated the two vessels. Carr was so irritated that they had to deal with this distraction that the much-anticipated moment of setting foot on planet Earth had passed almost unnoticed. Kestrel was locked up tight, until Sanchez used her remote command device to override the security codes.
The hatch slid open and they both rushed inside, stun-pistols in hand, finding nothing except an identical cabin to the one in which they had spent the last month. Sanchez began punching controls and talking with the ship. She’d warned Carr that it was imperative they quickly disable the vessel’s security, least they find themselves trapped onboard and inhaling sleeping gas. Meanwhile, Carr checked for possible ambushes, searching the bathroom and the large storage areas but finding nothing.
“Ship, security override—authorization code zed-zed-niner-two. Cancel all active security protocols,” Sanchez quickly stated in a clear and precise voice.
“Authorization code accepted. No security protocols were cancelled, as no security protocols were active. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Commander Etta Sanchez,” the female voice stated.
Carr let a little of the tension run out of him. “It knows you?”
“We’re old friends. I was Kestrel’s first test pilot and she recognizes my voiceprint. Carr, you know, it’s very odd that no security was programmed,” Sanchez said looking around, doing a cursory appraisal of the vehicle’s condition. “Ship, where are the pilots?”
The computer hesitated for a moment. “Commander Amy Beth Warrick has disembarked—location unknown. Current location of Lieutenant Thomas LeMasters—hypersleep chamber number two.”
Sanchez and Carr glanced at each other and then both looked toward coffin number two. Carr raised his stunner and pointed it at the compartment, then nodded. Sanchez did the same, issuing the computer a command. “Ship, open hypersleep chamber number two.”
The box slid out from the wall to reveal a man lying in the chamber—a very pale, very still man.
Sanchez lowered her weapon halfway. “Ship, what is the condition of the occupant of chamber number two?”
“Lieutenant Thomas LeMasters is deceased.”
“Explain. What was the cause of death?”
“Hypersleep chamber number two experienced a malfunction during transit from Rusalka to Sol. I was unable to effect repairs.”
Carr lowered his weapon. “So, if someone hadn’t stolen this ship…”
“…we would have taken it and one of us would have died in there,”
she finished his thought. Aboard Kite, Carr had been in compartment two. “But this isn’t Tom LeMasters. I’ve met LeMasters several times, and that’s not him.”
Just to be safe, Carr had the computer open the other hypersleep chamber and found it unoccupied. After ordering chamber number two closed, Sanchez went to a console and eyed some data.
“This is interesting, Carr. This ship landed here on computer control. At no time after they jumped into the Sol system did this Commander Warrick ever pilot the ship.”
“Which leads me to believe that maybe the fake Commander Warrick can’t pilot the ship,” he speculated, running his hand across his face in a gesture of thought or frustration, Etta couldn’t tell which. “Sanchez, is this ship secure? I mean, is it in ground stealth mode?”
“Yes, that’s why we didn’t spot it yesterday. We only saw it today because we were practically on top of it and because of Kite’s sensors. If we had approached the colony from any other direction, we would have missed it. Nobody will know it’s here unless they physically run on to it, which is doubtful out here in this forest.”
“One person knows it’s here—our Commander Warrick impersonator. Somehow, these two tricked the computer into thinking they were space forcers. Can you set up the security protocols so that if she comes back into the ship, it’ll trap her inside? I don’t want to hurt her, just trap her inside and make it so she can’t command the ship to take off.”
“I can do that. Captured inside the ship she stole—now that would be karma,” Sanchez said with a devious little laugh. “I’ve checked the ship out and everything seems fine. I can work this ship’s controls from Kite, so when we lift off, Kestrel will follow us.” She continued to labor at the pilot’s console.
Carr had reopened hypersleep chamber number two in order to search the corpse. Finding nothing of note, he closed the compartment again. The chamber had become an actual coffin and it would preserve the body decently until they got somewhere to run an autopsy and possibly identify the man.
“Who do you think these people are?” asked Sanchez.
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