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Beyond the Event Horizon - Episode Three

Page 6

by Albert Sartison


  “In your opinion, what is the greatest risk for our race if we agree to cooperate with you?”

  “The greatest risks are contained in, and come from, you yourselves. You are not threatened from outside.”

  “And what are these risks?”

  “The reconfiguration of the structure of your civilisation due to the strengthening influence of random groups suddenly finding too much power concentrated in their hands.”

  “And what can we do to counteract this?”

  “Maintain a balance of forces of the different interest groups, and do not try to preserve the status quo at any price. Every new reality in technology makes the previous solutions obsolete and incapable of adequately responding to difficulties of a completely new character and nature. This is particularly important when you become a civilisation utilising the energy of your central star.”

  “Let us assume – stipulating that I am not the one who will decide – but let us assume that we accept your proposition. Do you agree that we shall have to have more trust in each other?”

  “We do.”

  “What if I suggest that you reveal the position of your ships by deactivating the protective cloud?”

  “Will you withdraw your ships in response?”

  “You probably have a consensus among yourselves on a strategy for interacting with Earthlings, but with us, it is not like that at all. Among those who will have to take the decision, many are afraid to trust you. If you take the first step, those who see you as potential partners will have further arguments to support their point of view.”

  “Nevertheless, the question of our own security still remains.”

  “The shot at your ship was from a large fixed gun, but your ship was still not destroyed. We believe you know the firepower of our group around the cloud. You must therefore realise that there are no weapons of that sort of power there; consequently you have nothing to fear.”

  “Then the presence of your ships close to ours is completely pointless, and they can be withdrawn.”

  “In that case, we would not be able to guarantee your safety against space criminals. Unfortunately, this problem exists in the Solar System.”

  “Criminal groups could hardly be a serious threat to us.”

  “We don’t think they could, but nevertheless, we should like to exclude the possibility of unpleasant incidents which could be misinterpreted.

  “I am authorised to make you the following proposition. We shall withdraw our two most powerfully armed ships from the group, and you will reveal to us the exact position of your ships by deactivating the cloud.”

  “We agree.”

  The voice of the Viking’s captain was heard. “Steve, Maggie. We are registering symptoms of fatigue in both of you. The computer recommends ending the contact.”

  Steve switched on the link to Maggie.

  “I’ve been through the whole list, I have no more questions. Is there anything more you would like to ask them?”

  “I’d give anything to take samples of their tissue,” Maggie replied dreamily.

  “Have you forgotten why we’re sitting in this capsule? We were forbidden to enter the same room as them, even in spacesuits.”

  “I know. It’s a shame.”

  “There’s nothing to be done about it. Maybe next time.”

  Steve switched the link to the aliens back on.

  “We thank you for an interesting discussion. If you have no more questions for us, I propose we end our first contact at this point.”

  “We have no further questions.”

  “Then I hope that today’s meeting will be the foundation for fruitful cooperation between our civilisations.”

  Without further formalities, the aliens, without changing the position of their bodies and continuing to face Steve and Maggie, floated towards the exit aperture. It seemed as if someone were pulling them from outside by invisible strings, like puppets.

  After leaving the capsule, they continued to move towards their own ship. On reaching it, their silhouettes disappeared inside as they passed through its hull plating. The ship then vanished from sight with its now customary rapidity.

  “It seems they don’t put much stock in manners,” commented Maggie. “They might at least have said goodbye.”

  “Most likely they are simply not used to wasting time on idle chat. I bet Clive would like it on their planet,” said Steve.

  “Did you notice anything strange about their ships?” said the captain, cutting into the conversation.

  “The fact that they pass through their walls?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I noticed it too. You know, it seems to me that their ships do not consist of matter at all,” suggested Steve.

  “But how could that be possible?” objected Maggie.

  “If only I knew... They don’t use doors, they pass through walls. What’s more, their ships move as if the force of inertia does not exist for them. Perhaps they simply create some local anomaly in space, which serves them as a means of locomotion.”

  “That’s an interesting thought,” said the captain, breaking in again. “OK. It’s time to return. I’m initiating the extraction. Are you ready?”

  12

  “John,” said the head of the president’s security, touching his shoulder. “I have received a message from the Commander of the Space Fleet that the aliens have withdrawn the cloud. The fleet now has a clear view of their ships. Our analytical department has recalculated the threat level and... we have decided to reduce it by one notch.”

  “Does that mean I’m free again?”

  “There’s no need to keep moving bunkers for the time being, but there is still cause for concern. The threat level could rise again at any moment, it could be in an hour or maybe even in ten seconds, so you need to be prepared for that.”

  “OK, I understand. In that case, we’re changing course.”

  “As you wish. So where are we heading?”

  “We’re going home.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Anywhere but the capital. Not with the current threat level.”

  The president shook his head.

  “I meant my real home, Island City.”

  “Only if you remain incognito. If you’re intending to see anyone, they must not know about your visit beforehand. For reasons of security.”

  “When it comes to the person I’m planning to visit, I always arrive without warning.”

  The head of security laughed and nodded his head in agreement. Two years ago, when he had been entrusted with protecting the new head of state, he had had to apprise himself of the president’s past so as to be aware of potential threats. As a result, Dennis knew much more about the president than he would have liked, but such was the job. He had a vague idea where he was planning to go.

  “I have no objection, but we need to stay close by.”

  “Could it be in such a way that I’m not aware of your presence?”

  “As long as the meeting is not in a public place then I should think that’s possible, yes.”

  Forty minutes later, Space Force One splashed down 400 kilometres away from Island City’s spaceport, where an ordinary private ship was already waiting for them. The weather was calm, and small waves rippled the smooth surface of the water, rocking it gently.

  The private ship now carrying out the role of Space Force One was a standard medium-sized vessel. Its appearance would have undoubtedly drawn attention in a small town, but here, in the largest floating city on Earth, such ships arrived and set sail every few minutes. As befits a ship of its class, it sat in the VIP section of the civic spaceport floating 50 kilometres from the main city. A luxury driverless taxi was already waiting in the cargo compartment, and no sooner had the president sat in it than it quickly left the spaceport and headed into the city along a high-speed expressway.

  Owing to the lateness of the hour, the roads were almost deserted and the sparse traffic was able to tear along at full speed. Half an hour later, the t
axi reduced its speed, entered a tunnel and, after several smooth turns, emerged onto a painfully familiar street.

  “Sir, we have reached your destination,” reported the soft voice of the taxi’s computer.

  “The street is under surveillance, you can get out,” came the head of security’s voice from a concealed earpiece no bigger than a pinhead fixed discreetly behind John’s ear. He turned around and looked through the rear window. Two black minivans were parked a dozen metres or so behind.

  “Those are my guys,” said the voice in the earpiece again.

  “I know, I’m just getting my bearings. It’s a long time since I’ve been here,” said the president. “I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency. I don’t want to see your people either.”

  “Roger. Over and out.”

  A pip tone was heard in the earpiece, signifying that the head of security had broken off the connection. The transmitter switched to sleep mode. Now the president’s words would no longer be transmitted to his bodyguards’ receiver.

  John picked up his jacket lying next to him on the seat and opened the door. Salty, moisture-laden air instantly rushed inside, causing a firework of memories in his head. After being confined in underground bunkers for a few weeks, the fresh air was simply bliss, and the salty taste of the sea lapping a couple of kilometres away was truly divine.

  He got out and looked around, standing on the deserted pavement. On a weekday evening, and at such a late hour, the streets were practically empty. There was not a soul on the pavement either in front of him or behind. On the other side of the street, a couple walked arm in arm, totally oblivious to both the world around them and the president emerging from an ordinary unmarked car.

  Although the evening was warm, John put on his jacket and turned up the collar, so as not to draw unnecessary attention. He then put on a ridiculous hat that Dennis had given him. The brim of the hat was wide enough so that with his upturned collar, it hid his face from prying eyes. To onlookers, it looked as if he was simply shielding himself from the light rain that had started, as if on order, as soon as he had gotten out of the taxi.

  Once satisfied that nobody was paying him any attention, the president slammed the door and walked across the pavement. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see his security guards following him a few dozen metres behind on the other side of the street. The guys had failed to keep their promise to stay out of view, but during his presidency, he had already learned how to ignore their breathing down his neck. When the bodyguards were at such a distance, it was as if they weren’t there at all. Most importantly, they were not ruining his impression of this wonderful evening, which was reminiscent of a time when he had not needed security.

  The president walked unhurriedly. So much time had passed since the last time he had walked along this street. He looked at his watch. It was 12:15am local time, more or less the same kind of time he used to wander around here.

  John had been born and had grown up in a different part of the city. He was 20 years old before life first brought him to this area, when he had accompanied home a girl he met at a New Year’s party. He had been standing with a group of friends holding a cocktail, waiting to welcome in the New Year, when he had suddenly felt somebody’s eyes on him.

  His gaze instinctively skimmed the crowd and a moment later, realising who was looking at him so intently, he returned the stare of a dark-haired stranger in a hood. She fastened her eyes on his, a straw sticking out of a half-empty cocktail glass held coquettishly between her lips, and smiled girlishly.

  Just then, the crowd began counting down the final seconds to the start of the New Year.

  Thousands of voices rang out across the town square: “Five... Four... Three...”

  John, who had been shouting out the numbers himself just a few seconds before, fell silent and just stared at the girl. He knew she was daring him with her eyes, but like a stupid fish caught on a hook, he was unable to do anything.

  “Two... One!”

  The noise of the crowd suddenly disappeared, as though it had dissolved to nothing. Entranced, John gazed at her, barely able to make out her features in the shadow of her hood. All he could see clearly were her cheek, her lips slightly curved in a smile, and... her long eyelashes framing her eyes.

  HAPPY NEW YEAR!

  The noise around him broke back into his consciousness, but instead of looking up to enjoy the fireworks, he continued to stare at the stranger. The crack of a firework rang out, followed by the fizz of a fluorescent explosion soaring skywards. A second later, a blinding flash of red and purple sparks spread through the sky, illuminating everything around him.

  Bang!

  The air shook with the explosion, which reached the festive crowd cheering the fireworks a few seconds after the flash. The deafening noise of the explosion made John jump and he laughed. What the hell was going on? It was probably the alcohol in his blood playing games with him. The stranger made a gesture, tilting her head to one side as if thanking him for the brief and incomprehensible, but at the same time miraculous, conversation they had had with their eyes, and suddenly turned around, disappearing into the crowd. No way, you’re not getting away that easily!

  Without hesitating, he took a step after her.

  “Where are you going?” said a voice behind him as somebody grabbed his hand. John pulled himself free, gesturing that he would explain later, and headed for the place where the mysterious girl had just been standing. He reached the spot after just a few steps and stopped to look around. His gaze skimmed over the heads of those in the crowd, but failed to pick out the silhouette he was looking for.

  After turning full circle, John began a second examination of those around him. The drizzling rain made the search more difficult; every other person was wearing a hood that covered their face, making the crowd look more like a field of identical plants than a gathering of people.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Not now. I said I have to...” he began, but turning around, he saw her and stopped short.

  “Have to what?” asked the stranger, smiling broadly. She took off her hood, letting her hair unfurl in the wind. Droplets from the light, drizzling rain stuck to her long curls, which glittered like tiny glass beads and reflected sparkles of multicoloured light with each new volley of fireworks. She was now just a step away from him and he could see her a little better. Close up, the features of her face were even more enigmatic than his mind had painted them from afar, unable to make out her face fully.

  He quickly recollected himself.

  “Not lose something,” he replied, smiling back.

  “Is it really possible to lose something you’ve never had?” she asked playfully. A gust of wind blew a mop of her hair directly into his face, but she was in no hurry to remove it.

  John walked down the street, smiling involuntarily at the memories continuously rising to the surface from the depths of his consciousness. Reaching a painfully familiar side street, he turned into it.

  Jena’s building looked exactly the same as he remembered. The windows of her second floor apartment were completely dark. Maybe she was out, maybe she was just sleeping, or maybe she hadn’t lived here for a long time.

  He quickly climbed up the front steps and went in. With each step up the stairs, his heart beat faster and faster. Perhaps it was because he had not done that much sport lately? Or nerves? Who knows... The moonlight falling through the panoramic windows inside illuminated the stairwell with a particular whitish light from which adventures emanated. He reached the floor he was looking for, the door. Just like back when he was twenty.

  John walked up to it and listened. There was not even a hint of a sound from inside, just complete silence. He raised his hand to knock but then froze for a moment.

  “Maybe there’s no point,” he thought. Somebody else might have been living behind this door for a long time. And even if not, then who knows? Maybe she already has a family now. And if
there’s a family, then...

  Intoxicated by long-forgotten memories and feelings, his excited mind began to draw a picture of how some guy was going to open the door and, seeing the president standing before him, be absolutely dumbfounded. Bluffing it out by lying and saying he had simply gotten the wrong door probably wouldn’t work. How often do the presidents of the most powerful state in the Solar System go knocking on doors at night?

  Fuelled by such thoughts, his doubts snowballed, almost forcing him to give up and leave. But quickly getting the better of them, John reined in the flood of doubts and knocked.

  The rest of that New Year’s evening he met Jena they spent together. Long after the crowd in the central square had gone home, having had their fill of the celebrations and feeling exhausted, they continued to wander around the city.

  From the very beginning, their relationship was easy-going with no strings attached. They enjoyed being together, but neither of them broached the subject of what would happen next. They simply met up when they felt like it, spent the night together and then went their separate ways the next morning, each doing their own thing.

  Their relationship ended without either of them really noticing. After studying at university, John spent four years in Europe, returning home with an already pregnant wife. Back in Island City, he never tried to make contact with Jena. Neither did she ever phone or send a message. And now for the first time in many years, he was once again standing outside her door.

  In the night-time silence of the stairwell, the sound of his knock echoed on every floor, bouncing loudly off the walls, but was answered with silence. He leaned forward slightly to put his ear to the door, aware of exactly the same smell of wood varnish as back then. He thought he heard something rustle on the other side of the door, but it was most likely just the wind blowing through the apartment. It was probably foolish to think that she still lived in her old apartment.

  He knew the inside of the apartment well, and he was fully aware how much time it took to get out of bed and walk from the bedroom to the front door. After waiting longer than was necessary, he knocked again. Gingerly at first, but then again, more loudly.

 

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