People on the plaza gazed up in awe. It wasn’t every day that a bird with wingspan the size of a house came out of nowhere and turned into a woman.
She did not want to be there. The East was calling, but the communication network only reached the Basin. Silly girl! Should have spent the wet season on this, rather than devising beauty treatments for old friends. She sighed and trudged up the stairs.
The problem was simple, really. Extending consciousness to the Eastern Sea required an unbroken chain that reached 3000 kilometers back to the Stone. Moving the Stone east, or anywhere besides its home on the mountain, was not an option she was willing to consider.
A herd of elephants could march slowly across the continent, setting up microwave relays every 50 kilometers or so. Each relay would add more delay to the signal. The Ancients used to hold meetings between people across the whole planet. A second or so of delay was OK when you were taking turns talking. It would never do in a fight, where millisecond reactions made all the difference.
A repeater satellite would work much better. Only one hop, at nearly the speed of light. She aimed an antenna upward and listened for a long time. Thousands of voices once filled the sky: the chatter of text messages, the stream of images from satellites watching the Earth, the relentless ping of the Global Positioning System.
The heavens had fallen silent.
She constructed an enormous radar antenna and probed. Objects still wandered up there, in something like geosynchronous orbit. A few others swung in odd ellipses, their station-keeping fuel expended long ago. All space junk, drifting derelicts of a former age.
Time to launch a new ring of communication satellites. Susan called up a recipe the Ancients had provided. It included a number of mix-and-match modules: communication relays, navigation beacons, scientific instruments, and so on.
She picked something simple, just enough to make a communication link. The satellites would be small and light. Good, faster to grow. She sent the command, and somewhere on the east side of the valley a handful of dendroids started to bear fruit.
Getting them into space would require an enormous amount of energy and materials, maybe even more than the swarm had on hand. Susan studied plans for a launch system, probably the most complicated of all the technology recipes. I can do better than this! She spent hours changing the design, then started some simulations to test the idea.
With time to kill, she walked to the Abbey, stood at the gate and begged, “Please help a hungry old woman.”
“Antikva!” Olivia hugged Susan.
“Seriously, I feel like eating something, but I can’t stand to beg from the King right now.”
“You are no beggar!” Olivia led her to the kitchen and rummaged some leftovers.
Susan stuffed her mouth. “So, how is it going wif the reading mafines?”
Olivia frowned. “After a few people got them, everyone wanted one. They were lining up at the gate before dawn. Then they started fighting over who was first. It got so bad that the King ordered us to stop giving them out.”
“What? He can’t do that.”
“Of course he can. He’s the King.”
“That’s not how it works. Separation of church and state.”
Olivia laughed. “You can hardly call us a church.”
“True, but I’m running with that for now. You start handing out the machines again, and I’ll deal with the King. You also need a few more trees.”
Olivia held up her device. “These are great for talking, but there isn’t much to read.”
“Would you like to put your collection on them? I can create a server for you. It would let people share things with each other like the Ancients did. I can put my collection there too.”
* * *
Ship woke on the runway, and the sheer joy of existence flowed through him. The sun shone brightly above. The road ahead stretched for nearly ten kilometers. Ship sniffed by radar and found it to be perfectly smooth and level. The Creator tended to his needs with the greatest of care.
Vines on each side pumped a thin oily liquid into his wings. A more mechanical appendage penetrated his belly, delivering liquid oxygen to the cryo tank. He told them when he felt full. They detached and retracted into the surrounding forest.
Ship flexed his wings. Thousands of carbon-composite scales slid smoothly across each other, held in place by a bone-like matrix of swarm. The Creator called them ‘dragon scales’. All Ship knew was that they kept out the blast of wind and fierce heat it produced.
The Creator spoke into his mind, Ship, this mission is not a dream. Remember everything you have learned.
Ship thought back, Joy.
Engulf Rocket.
Hundreds of tendrils carried a cone-tipped cylinder out of the forest and lifted it toward Ship’s underbelly. He dutifully parted the scales and wrapped his skin around the body of Rocket, careful always to keep a tight seal against the surface of the cylinder. This wasn’t important on the ground, but later it would be a matter of life-or-death.
Rocket had the same carbon-composite skin, but it didn’t get scales. Only Ship could change shape in flight. That made him extra special. Rocket itself had almost no intelligence. All the smarts lived in Satellite, attached to the head of Rocket. And Satellite could only carry out simple commands. Ship did all the real thinking. He was the best and smartest of the Creator’s works.
Ship’s belly rested on Wheels. Rocket went in the middle, roughly on the same level as Ship’s wings. His nostrils covered the top. A wide scoop, they brought air into the central engine cavity. It flowed past the first-stage booster and out the tail nozzle. Ship knew every centimeter of his own body, what to do with it, how to bend and move to shift the flow of air.
Finally, the Creator spoke the word Ship longed to hear, Go!
Ship pumped fuel and oxygen into the first-stage combustion chamber and fired a spark. It burst into a turbulent conflagration. The first billow of burning gases blew out the back, then stabilized. He reported, Ignition.
A glowing river flowed from the inner nozzle, several meters through the engine cavity, and exited the main nozzle. Air sucked into the cavity and absorbed the heat, adding far more thrust than the little rocket engine could produce by itself. Ship went screaming down the runway on a streak of flame. Unending thunder rumbled across the Basin, bounced off the mountains and washed back over the land, again and again.
He pushed away from Wheels, leaving them to trundle down the runway alone. He pitched up, aiming for the wide-open sky above the peaks.
Wheels took the brunt of rocket exhaust. Layers of living swarm singed off. It sent a silent shriek of pain through Ship.
The Creator said, Next time, pitch up more slowly. And we’ll add some shielding for Wheels.
As Ship accelerated he pulled the wings closer to his body. At Mach 1 he started the main engine, an air-breathing ramjet. Injectors in the cavity sprayed fuel and ignited it. He shut down the first-stage engine and sheathed the bell to smooth airflow.
At Mach 3, Ship began the transition to supersonic combustion, gradually shaping the engine cavity to handle faster-moving air. An instability developed along the inner surface, something he had never seen in the dreams. He tried to compensate. It shifted modes and became worse. He tried again.
Scales separated, allowing the blast of air into the matrix. The wound tore open under the onslaught of wind. Ship tumbled out of control. He did not feel terror at the moment of death, only sorrow that the mission had failed.
In the last microseconds before he disintegrated into an exploding ball of fuel and machinery, Ship felt the presence of the Creator taking back everything he was.
* * *
Ship woke on the runway and felt that he was more than before. Updated mechanical systems. New knowledge from hundreds of hours of dreaming.
The swarm fed him fuel and oxygen, then brought another Rocket to engulf. The voice of the Creator whispered, Go!
Ship raced down the runway,
rejoicing in another chance to please the Creator. He pushed away from Wheels and traveled parallel to the ground for several hundred meters before pitching up. He banked to the northeast and accelerated: Mach 1 ... Mach 2 ... Mach 3. The instability developed. This time he rippled his skin a certain way, and the vibrations damped out.
Ship surged forward. Mach 5 ... Mach 7 ... Mach 10. At that speed he hardly needed wings at all, just a small difference between the top and bottom of his body to give lift. He traveled at cruising speed for several minutes, observing the shape of the land. Those mountains would lead him home again. Air thinned in the upper stratosphere, revealing stars. He read them to get a better position estimate.
Stonehill fell below the horizon. The voice of the Creator grew weak. Now he could only hear her by shortwave radio. There would be no upload this time if something went wrong, only death.
The landscape, stars, altitude and speed, everything matched the window that the Creator had specified. Ship complained, I can reach orbit from here.
Yes, you could, but your matrix would die in the vacuum. Let Rocket do its work.
Ship sent a message to Satellite, Transfer guidance.
Satellite received Ship’s position, then started to count down. Ship wanted to release Rocket as close as possible to the moment of ignition, but if he waited too long, they would be caught in a deadly embrace. With less than a second remaining, Ship pulled back his skin.
Rocket fell, ignited its engine and rushed forward.
Ship banked away, staying just outside the expanding plume. He relayed telemetry back to the Creator until Satellite went beyond the horizon, then turned toward home. His wings broadened for slower flight in the thickening air.
The outer surface of his scales had reached several thousand degrees during the hypersonic flight. Even the best insulator couldn’t keep that out forever. The matrix spread the heat around, but soon there would nowhere left to put it. Ship came over the rim of the Long River Basin and dove toward the runway. Such a maneuver would be arrogant and reckless for a human pilot, but Ship had only minutes left to live.
Wheels was waiting on the runway. Ship joined minds with it. As a part of himself, it accelerated toward an intuitive rendezvous point.
At the last moment Ship pulled up and slammed through the air at near stall to throw off speed. He leveled about 20 meters above the runway and sank the remaining distance. Wheels reached up with an array of tentacles. Ship opened slits in his belly and extended tentacles the other way. They caught and wrapped around each other, then fused into thick stalks which supported Ship’s weight.
From a small onboard reservoir, Wheels sent cool water up. Ship flipped open the dragon scales, exposing the matrix to air. Steam billowed out.
He rolled to a stop at the far end of the runway. Vines came from the sides and fed him more water. The plumes of steam grew thick, blowing away in the mountain air. Water dripped from the open matrix, pooling on the ground and dribbling off the side of the runway.
Ship said, I’m cool enough to go now.
Tinkling laughter came from the Creator. Wait till Satellite comes over the horizon, so we can time the next launch correctly.
Journey East
Year 10, Day 45
It took about a week to finish launching the satellites. They formed six evenly-spaced rings around the planet. Each craft circled over the north pole, then the south pole, then back again. Eventually there were enough that one or two were in the sky at any given time, ready to bounce signals back and forth.
Susan stood at the top of the stairs and surveyed the plaza below, took a deep breath and sighed with contentment. “Esc bird.” She ran down the steps and lifted away. Circling around the ziggurat, she turned to follow the East Road.
A few minutes later the edge of town passed below, then rich alluvial farmland. Dendroids covered the rough ground toward the mountains that surrounded the Basin. The living machines were a lot thinner now. Throwing rocks into space had used every bit of fat.
On the other hand, Susan’s human form had grown quite plump, storing up energy for the journey. More buxom than ever, her butt had grown to epic proportions, and even her waist thickened a little. If the bird had to carry even one gram more, it would not make it into the air.
There was the airstrip, a long gash of leveled ground cut through the landscape. Ship was nowhere to be seen. His mind waited dormant in digital storage. Dragon scales and wheel bearings were safely stashed away in the trunks of dendroids. Beyond the airstrip, swarm forest continued to the foothills of the mountain pass.
Her emotions soared with the thermals. Beyond those mountains lay the rest of the world and answers that had waited for a millennium. Anything was possible. What if Mother had survived, after all? It would be so wonderful to share this new world with her. Mom would be wise enough to use Susan’s power for good. No more guessing. No more stress.
The pass zigged and zagged between three large peaks. It took an hour to wend through it, a two-day journey for someone on foot. A new vista opened up, dreadfully flat compared to the Basin or her home in the mountains. The shallow river ‘valleys’ hardly deserved the name.
Ancient maps showed a town here, but the place appeared empty. From the air she could almost see the outlines of streets. Someone on the ground would see nothing at all. The road continued east, following the Ancient route to the next town. The natural flow of water would lead there, but this road cut a direct swath. The Ancients were fond of ignoring the terrain at all cost.
Two hours later the next town came into view. This one was inhabited. A small cluster of houses marked the point where her path turned to follow the river. It was only noon, too early to stop for the day. She sailed over.
People in the streets pointed excitedly and started shouting. Soon others ran out of the houses and stared up in wonder. The encounter lasted only a minute. Soon the place fell out of sight behind her.
She whispered, “Esc heads-up display.”
In the virtual world a wire-frame screen appeared in front of her. Beyond its thin lettering the landscape spread out below, just as before. The display showed various numbers and indicators: magnetic heading, barometric altitude, distance to ground, speed, and so on. What she really wanted to know was fuel level: fat stores down to 90%. It would take a hefty meal to restock.
As the day wore on, she passed over a couple of tiny towns. Fat stores gradually dropped to 80%. Near evening she reached a much larger settlement. Compared to the others, it could almost merit the name ‘city’. She came down and flew low, getting as close to the outskirts as she dared. No reason to scare the natives. They would respond better to a human form. She landed, morphed and walked the rest of the way.
The sound of chatter in the streets struck her ears an odd way. She could only understand about half the words, barely enough to follow conversations. Maybe it was some mongrel of Baseno and Arkinsani.
People stared as she walked by. A little boy ran up and asked, “Are you Antikva?”
Susan smiled and nodded. So much for a quiet entry.
He called triumphantly to a little girl hiding in the shadow of a doorway, “See, I told you!”
A crowd gathered around to look. The little boy reached out and stroked her long hair. A woman barked something unintelligible and he backed away, chastened. Then another woman reached out and gently stroked Susan’s forearm. Apparently the villagers did not get this kind of entertainment often.
The crowd parted and an older man walked up. He bowed low and asked, “How may we serve Antikva?”
“I could use some food.”
The elder straightened and beckoned for her to follow. They came to an adobe hut, somewhat larger than the ones around it. Inside, a meal was already laid out on the floor. He gestured for her to sit.
She knelt and rested her butt on her ankles, the only gracious way to sit in her white gown. She smoothed the hem over her knees for a little more modesty.
The elder sat
next to her. Soon a crowd of other people showed up at the door. A few came in, placed additional food items on the floor and squeezed into the circle. Those who could not fit simply stood outside the door and watched.
Susan felt everyone staring at her expectantly. She turned to the elder. “Please forgive me, but I don’t know your customs. Will you show me how to eat?”
The elder reached out, tore off a piece of flatbread and offered it to her.
She received it, bowed her head in gratitude and took a bite. Instantly everyone started eating. She breathed an inner sigh of relief.
She struggled to be dainty, but desperately needed to refuel. They were happy to offer her a relentless stream of morsels. Apparently it was important that your food be eaten—and approved of—by the guest of honor. A good excuse to make a supreme pig of herself.
She turned to the elder. “How do you know me?”
The elder gave a lengthy answer which she could barely understand. It had something to do with traveler’s tales and epics about the Guardian of the Stone who had returned from the spirit world. Antikva appeared in a white dress, bright as the sun, her hair a river of fire. Any man who looked on her would fall under her spell—
Susan smiled. At least they got one thing right.
* * *
The next morning she crossed the river and climbed a small knoll rising from the south bank. It was the best takeoff place in the area—which was to say, barely adequate. She knelt and whispered, “Esc plant.” A blob of swarm formed on the end of her finger and dropped to the ground. Immediately it put up a tiny square leaf.
She stood and waved goodbye to the villagers, then morphed. The villagers gasped in surprise at the enormous white bird with red crest that appeared before them. She ran down the slope and lifted away, turning east to follow the river. There’s another legend for you.
After an hour the river veered north. If the Ancient maps were of any use, it would make a long loop then turn south again, where it would join the confluence of other tributaries. A great city once stood there. Surely something so big would still have people. It would make a good landing place for the day. She left the river and headed straight east by the compass.
Time of the Stones Page 10
