Proxima Dreaming

by Brandon Q Morris

  Marchenko 2 would have placed the obstacle shortly before the end of the tunnel he drilled, at least that is what Adam hopes. The work is getting increasingly more difficult. He takes another look at the gap. On both sides he has dug in for about half a meter. That has to be enough! Adam puts his feet in the footholds, lowers his head, and pushes his shoulders against the block of ice. Heave-ho! Ha! Something is happening. The plug has moved, just a little, but that’s a good sign. Once it is out of the way, Adam’s air bubble will disappear.

  To be on the safe side, Adam pulls his suit back on and puts on the helmet. Then he once again pushes with full force against the ice from below. It is finally working! The thing is moving. He has won! Air bubbles rise and make it hard for him to see. It is obvious, though, the obstacle is moving upward.

  How far will I have to push it? Adam just manages to form this thought when the ice slips away. He seems to have reached a cavity. Suddenly the ice block is no longer heavy—quite the opposite, the ice has a lower density than the water and floats up. For a moment Adam is frightened because the tunnel continues after the cavity and the block moves in front of it. Yet now it no longer presents a problem. He can simply push it aside and continue his ascent.

  Brightnight 36, 3876

  “Gronolf Carriontooth, you are the best. I am proud of you.”

  His face turns pale, as always happens when he gets nervous. It is a great honor, he realizes, having been called to stand in front of the general—his father. The other cadets received their awards from their commander. Being face to face with his father again in this setting is an indescribable feeling. Gronolf feels unsure. Can he show signs of how happy he is, or would he embarrass his father in front of the other officers? For safety’s sake he keeps his four arms behind his back, a sign of reticence. His father knows best how to behave. If he does not find it appropriate to show emotions, he would have a reason.

  “Yes, sir!” Gronolf answers, according to regulations. He has finished eight years of training and is itching for the chance to finally travel in the new capital ship. It can be seen every evening on the beaches, when the twilight fog approaches the land and the projectors beam current news onto the fog banks. A thousand cycles ago, it is said, the astronomers discovered the world called Single Sun. The project has been going on ever since. But it was only about a hundred cycles ago, back when the Matter Scientists discovered dark matter and how to use it, that the idea of reaching this strange world in a period shorter than the lifespan assigned to his people became a possibility.

  “Dismissed,” his father says. He follows his comrades into the catacombs.

  “Gronolf Carriontooth, your presence is required,” a voice resounds through the corridors.

  Gronolf looks around. Where did the announcement come from? There are no loudspeakers on the masonry ceiling. The others keep walking on stubbornly. They either did not hear or they are not interested. And why does someone call him by way of speech?

  “Gronolf Carriontooth, your presence—”

  “Yes, I can hear you,” he interrupts the announcement. His voice is surprisingly deep and echoes much less than he would have expected in a basement corridor.

  “You have to wake up, Gronolf.” Is that his father contacting him in this old-fashioned way? That would be just like him, if mother’s stories are to be believed. But what is he talking about? He is not sleeping, he is walking through the corridors of the training camp, wearing combat equipment. Suddenly he feels a chill on his feet. He gazes down at his body. He is standing in water up to his knees! What happened? And he is alone. Where did the others disappear to? A strong wind is blowing against his face. He emerges from the tunnel. Gronolf wants to hold his touch-hands in front of his sensitive stomach skin, but they don’t react. They stay where they are, where he hid them from his father, behind his back. The wind is getting stronger and the water is rising.

  “Gronolf Carriontooth, the command center needs you,” the voice says.

  It must be right next to his ear.

  “Starting manual awakening.”

  At the same moment, bright light shines into the corridor. It comes from everywhere. The glare is so intense that the corridor disappears. Only the light and he himself exist, and he bathes in the brightness. Then the rays retreat.

  He is lying in a sleeping capsule. Suddenly his brain fills with memory fragments. He jerks, trying to sit up, but the couch won’t release him yet. That’s completely normal, he reminds himself, hoping to calm his racing heart. You are disoriented, Gronolf, because you slept for so long. You have to get up now, because the command center needs you.

  May 9, 19, Marchenko 2

  The exploration of the building can wait. Marchenko 2 dives back to the bottom of the ice cave, where he had discovered the strange piece of trashed technology. The thing looks like a reptile that had its tail and legs chopped off by someone. The fractures are uneven, so there was obviously violence involved. One can still see the rudiments of what must have been six limbs. It is also obviously not a living creature but a piece of technology. Somebody built this thing, and he has an idea who that somebody was.

  How long has it been lying down here? It is still radiating some heat. The control unit is probably in standby mode. The thing is sleeping. Marchenko 2 examines it from all sides. When he looks at its surface under extreme magnification, the traces of nano-fabricators are obvious. There is only one other person on Proxima b with access to this technology. The other Marchenko probably built this object as a scouting unit. It must have been involved in a conflict with the security mechanisms of this building. So things did not go so well. This tells him he has to be careful during exploration.

  He turns the object around to look at its lower side. Here he finds some nano-fabricators still active. Too valuable to leave them here, he thinks and scratches them off. He can have some of his own fabricators reprogram these. Otherwise, the scouting unit seems to be just scrap metal. He wonders whether he should take out its memory unit to analyze it. Perhaps it can tell him something about the plans of the other Marchenko, or at least his current location. It is probably encrypted, though. He analyzes the structure of the object. It appears to be made from a single block rather than from individual parts—typical for something produced by nano-fabricators. The surface is very hard. He would have to produce a tool first in order to get to the memory unit. And how would he handle the encryption? He decides to take care of this thing on his return trip. Once he has liberated Eve from the bonds of the other Marchenko, he will have plenty of time for dealing with lesser problems. He arranges the object in such a way that he will be able to find it again quickly. For that purpose he places other pieces of debris in a circle around the thing.

  Marchenko 2 looks up where the entrance to the alien building is waiting. Adam is probably awake by now. The boy will wonder where he went. He had better hurry, before Adam does something rash. While he locked him inside Valkyrie, Adam isn’t stupid—Marchenko 2 would not be surprised if he found a way to communicate.

  He moves slowly upward. Here, in the water, his current shape is practical, but the building probably won’t be full of water. Therefore he definitely has to adapt his form. Marchenko 2 starts to grow four appendages. He intends to use these for running, walking, gripping—whatever is required. He will keep the flexible outer membrane, which has helped him move swiftly through the water. The question is, how will Eve react to his shape? A squid on four legs—she will never recognize him. Yet he will need her trust, he needs her to follow him. It would be best to change the uppermost part of his body so it resembles a human head.

  The moment he enters the building through the opening, his mood changes. A moment ago he was in the ice ocean of an alien planet—in a by-now-familiar environment where he feels he knows any possible dangers. Now, however, he is inside an edifice created by an unknown species. Here he cannot and must not take things for granted. Even if something seems familiar and looks harmless, it still might
pose a danger. He is very strong-bodied and hard to destroy, yet a feeling comes over him which he has not experienced in a long time—an animal-like fear.

  He will not—must not—court danger unnecessarily. Therefore the first priority is to check his surroundings. Marchenko 2 scans in all directions. He is close to the bottom of a dish-shaped area. Close ahead of him he sees a jagged hole with a diameter of about one and a half meters. It is the start of a canal leading into the depths of the building. He sees several similar passages, but they are covered with grates.

  Marchenko 2 swims upward. The water is approximately ten meters deep. From its surface his scanner shows him a dome about ten meters above him, where several other canals end. They are not locked, but impossible to reach. He has no choice, and he doesn’t like that. Could this be a trap? He wouldn’t put it past the other Marchenko to have expected unwelcome visitors. On the other hand, it would be a rather obvious trap. He can exclude the possibility that the creators of this building had anything to do with it. They would not have destroyed the grate over the canal in such an unprofessional fashion. Of course it is also possible that these signs of damage are ancient. So far, he has no indications that the building is still active. However, the other Marchenko and Eve can’t be far from here, as the presence of the trashed scout unit tells him.

  Marchenko 2 floats down again. The dark canal is directly in front of him. When was the last time he was so afraid of something? Yet if he wants to reach Eve, he has to go through it now. He surges into the hole with a powerful movement of his outer membrane. It is strange: Even though it is just as dark here as it is outside, and even though he has enough space for his slim body, he feels uncomfortably cramped.

  He swims ahead slowly. Of course nothing happens. After one minute he calms down completely. It was silly to imagine a trap. The other Marchenko does not even know he has been in contact with Adam all this time. The passage bends and then leads upward at a 30-degree angle. Gradually, the water grows warmer. He swims against the weak current. The reservoir probably serves as a cooling system, because it sits directly over the ice. What needs to be cooled in this building?

  The water temperature has risen to 15 degrees. In addition, the concentration of dissolved radioactive salts is increasing. He examines the walls of the passage. It is covered by a thin layer of sludge that must have been too heavy for the current. The layer contains heavy metals, and some of them are indeed radioactive. Does this building contain a working reactor?

  Meanwhile, the canal rises upward more steeply, at 60 degrees. He has to work harder while swimming against the current. He reaches an area where the walls are clean. The canal is slowly becoming narrower. From the side, another passage joins the canal, but it is covered by a grating.

  Things are getting exciting. Marchenko 2 has the impression he will soon arrive... somewhere. By now, the water has reached a temperature of 25 degrees. There is another bend in the canal. If his instruments are correct, the water is now flowing horizontally. The canal widens again. It is no longer filled all the way to the top.

  Marchenko 2 examines the pipe. At regular intervals he sees an oval opening at the top, covered by a plate. Could he be moving in a circle? He can clearly feel centrifugal forces toward the outside. He must have arrived at the location where the cooling is fulfilling its function. Therefore he should get out now.

  By now, two of the four planned appendages have been finished and can serve as arms. He adjusts his swimming motions so he stays in place. Then he touches the oval plate. As expected, he finds four pegs which, like screws, keep the plate in place. While it is not self-evident, some construction principles seem to be universal.

  Marchenko 2 turns the pegs. A human would have no chance of removing them from here, but luckily he is no longer human. He finished loosening the pegs. Then he pushes against the plate with his other arm. It obediently moves and falls down with a clank. He is free! Now he only has to pull himself from the canal. He uses both arms to do this.

  The opening is large enough that he does not have to reconfigure his body. He hauls himself out, is able to briefly pause on the smooth round pipe, and then clatters to the floor. Shit, he thinks, if someone is here I just called attention to myself. He tries to drag himself away with his two arms, but it is slow going. It can’t be helped: He needs the other two appendages and has to lie here until they are finished. With great effort Marchenko 2 drags himself behind a ledge and then fully concentrates on his modifications.

  Brightnight 36, 3876

  His muscles creak with every movement. Gronolf has not yet managed to get up, even though the automatic system is constantly asking him to go to the central room. Whenever he tries to move one of his limbs, jolts of pain shoot through his mind. He really tries, but his brain immediately reacts by fainting. He has to take his time. He has never heard of hibernation having such aftereffects. A slight nausea during awakening, that’s normal, but pains like these?

  The blood circulation of his species adapts to temperature. It only has to get sufficiently cold and he will fall into a hibernation sleep—at least if he gives in to it. Now he no longer can allow himself to do that. At some point, the automatic system must have removed the hose that supplies him with the necessary nutrients.

  Gronolf notices he is hungry. If he does not get up soon, he won’t have the strength left to do it. Accordingly, he has to get food that provides him the needed nutrients, even if it is just the travel porridge typically served on ships. He does not even dare to think of some tasty fish. Right now he might not even be strong enough to overpower a carriontooth. But how about a small mudjumper? His secondary stomach fills with digestive juices.

  What could have happened here? Why did they let him sleep so long? And why is he needed right now? Gronolf tries to reconstruct the events after the landing, but in vain. Everything was okay then, wasn’t it? Sure, the planet Single Sun disappointed them. It was either too hot or too cold, and then there were the constant eruptions of its sun. Yet the first oviposition of the women had been successful. Gronolf had only been allowed to watch the ceremony. Supposedly, his sperm had been too valuable to be used in such an experiment. The commander had generously sacrificed himself. Of course this was right, for a good cause.

  Gronolf burbles derisively, which means he blows air from his lungs into the primary stomach and then outside, so that his belly folds flap loudly. A stabbing pain immediately reminds him that even his belly folds are full of muscles.

  Now he has to get up. The upper part of the sleeping capsule has opened. Gronolf looks around. He seems to have been wheeled to the terrace where doctors normally wait for late risers. But there is nobody here. It is even decidedly dark. In the visible range everything is completely black, while in infrared his immediate surroundings are slightly illuminated by his own body heat and the energy of the capsule, enough to tell him he is really and truly alone.

  “Why am I alone?”

  “There is no information available concerning this. Gronolf Carriontooth, you are needed in the command center.”

  “Where are the doctors, where are the others, and why is it dark?”

  “There is no information available concerning this.”

  Okay, the system is not going to be very helpful. While he lost muscle during his hibernation, it must have lost intelligence. Strange, considering the Thought Scientists prided themselves on having created a very clever intelligence system.

  “Now! Get up!”

  Perhaps it will help if he orders himself. Yet Gronolf feels no effect. He moves the smallest of his seven fingers and immediately clenches his belly flap because of the pain. He might have to start the special program. Gronolf is smiling wryly to himself. This program was used for lazy individuals—shirkers. He feels disgusted about having to use it for himself. Now he is glad nobody is waiting for him. Gronolf, the best of his plex, in such a situation! Everybody would have laughed at him. Gronolf burbles.

  “Move sleep capsule into cl
eaning position.”

  The bed he is lying on immediately starts positioning itself at an angle. The hinge squeaks. Gronolf cannot tell whether this is due to his weight or because the capsule has gone so long without proper maintenance. He catches himself in the ignominious hope that the hinge might break and save him from what has to happen next. His body starts to slide. Gronolf tries to hold on, but to do so he needs to employ his muscles. When the angle reaches the position of Mother Sun in the afternoon, gravity demands its due. It pulls him down inexorably. He hits the ground with a loud slapping sound. His entire body turns pale, as this is so embarrassing, even without witnesses.

  This embarrassment creates the energy he lacked earlier. He manages to tense his leg muscles without crying because of the pain. He pushes himself up from the floor by using his arms, even though they feel as though they are on fire. Gronolf, the strongest of his plex, moans loudly when he manages to get into a stable crouching position.

  He closes all four eyes and then opens them again. The fire is pulsing through his limbs, threatening to topple him. On the other hand, it also generates a heat that invigorates his circulation. He cannot rest now. Gronolf has to use the heat, the energy created by pain, to once again become the powerful warrior he is known to be, to own the title ‘strongest of the plex.’ He focuses on his thighs. He particularly needs them now, because they carry the largest part of his body mass. He pulls himself upright beside the bed, using all four arms simultaneously. Yes, he even employs the weak touch-arms, which is taboo, but nobody can see him now. He rises to his full stature. He made it, finally!

  He stands next to the sleeping chamber, the son of a father who would be proud of him, and he yells a battle cry into the darkness, “Control room, here I come!”