Proxima Trilogy: Part 1-3: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  “That would be optimal.”

  “Then we should say goodbye now. From where could you best transfer me?”

  Gronolf bends down and opens a flap at the base of the wall near the entrance. “There is a data input here that can be switched to the wireless system.” He points downward, “I only need details about the signal path. After all, your ship has to be able to process the signal.”

  “Sure,” Marchenko says, raising the display on his wrist.

  “That should be enough,” Gronolf says. “I will go to the control room and start programming the data. You can already connect here. You will notice an impulse in the line once it is about to start.”

  Marchenko crouches, pulls a cable from a flap in his side, and connects it to the wall outlet. “It fits,” he says.

  “It is all standardized, the way it should be on a ship.” Gronolf wonders what to wish Marchenko. An honorable death, the way warriors do? That might be misunderstood. It is only symbolic, as one really wishes the other person to win. Yet it is supposedly bad luck to say that.

  “Best wishes,” he finally says.

  “See you soon,” Marchenko replies. Gronolf goes to the control room and reprograms the radio transmitter to use human technology. Then he gives the start command. When he returns to the control room, he already sees Marchenko leaning lifelessly against the wall.

  Adam and Eve crouch next to him, each of them holding one of his hands.

  May 10, 19, Marchenko

  Suddenly he is the ship again. He feels as if he has come home in a suit, stripped it off along with the necktie and stiff shirt, and pulled on a comfy tracksuit. He spent many years here, first all alone, then with two infants who turned into children and became adults. That is not quite true, though, because he is inside Marchenko 2’s Messenger instead of his own. On the other hand, he can’t notice any difference. He is back home again.

  Marchenko mentally stretches himself with a deep relaxing sigh. He is reminded just how confining a robot body can be. When he first moved into J the robot a few months ago, he focused on the adventure ahead, the exploration of a completely new world. While the orbital module that now serves as his home is no more than a speck of dust in space, it gives him a feeling of freedom he missed in the gravitational well of the planet.

  Should he really move back into a solid body, the one that the nano-fabricators are presently assembling in the cabin? For a moment he even toys with the idea of running away. Perhaps the Omniscience had similar thoughts? Why should he care about humans or aliens? He is immortal, after all. He could leave the gravitational field of this sun behind and once again travel through space. Even if it takes him thousands of years, he has enough time. He can explore the galactic vicinity of Earth and then gradually move toward the center of the Milky Way. He will see things eternally inaccessible to mankind, if... yes, if he frees himself from his subservience to biological life forms.

  Marchenko is suddenly ashamed for entertaining these thoughts. He remembers the looks Adam and Eve gave him when saying goodbye. For them, he is not just a machine. They consider him as close to a father as they will ever have. And he thinks of them as his children. This urge to flee might be based on fear, the natural fear of death, because the Omniscience is dangerous. He has to save Adam and Eve. And he can only do that if he defeats the Omniscience. Then he can stay with his children until the end of their lives, and still have millions of years left to roam the universe.

  He aims the antenna at Proxima b and activates the transmitter. “This is Marchenko.”

  “This is Adam. Did you arrive safely?”

  “Yes. It is just like coming back home.”

  “Yes, I’d like to see Messenger again, too.”

  “The ship would seem small to you.”

  “Please return it in one piece. Have you already left orbit?”

  “That will not be necessary. I have already started to turn and raise the orbit of Messenger around Proxima b. The alien ship is coming toward us, after all.”

  “When will you meet it?”

  “I estimate thirty-six hours of flight time. Then I have four or five hours on board the Majestic Draght to talk the Omniscience into cooperating with us.”

  “You will soon be in the radio shadow. Let me say goodnight now.”

  “The same to you, Adam, and say hello to the others.”

  The connection is interrupted. Marchenko only now realizes he spoke English. Gronolf would not have understood him. In an hour he will be back out of the area of radio silence.

  Talking to Adam felt good. Adam and Eve are his last connection to mankind—and perhaps his own human nature. Maybe his alter ego lacked this factor.

  May 11, 19, Eve

  Eve has spent a lot of time with her brother since Marchenko’s departure. Gronolf mostly leaves them alone, and they can only communicate in primitive phrases. Talking to him is difficult for her. It must be even harder for the alien, as he constantly has to remember not to use any sounds in the ultrasound range. Eve tried, just for fun, to lower her voice for a few sentences, but that was really exhausting.

  Marchenko has left some food for them. If he doesn’t come back within two days, they will have to make do with carbohydrates that Gronolf will have to prepare chemically from Grosnop food, according to Marchenko’s instructions. That stuff won’t have any taste, but at least they are not going to starve. If Marchenko 2 had not become so crazy, they might be able to use his help now. If wishes were horses... She has never actually seen a horse, but she likes the saying. Eve remembers Marchenko using it when they were about thirteen or fourteen years old.

  Now the project of the day is to get their spacesuits and make them functional again, if possible. It is feasible, after all, that Marchenko succeeds with this phase of the plan and they will then be taking off in a much larger spaceship. Eve cannot really imagine this. They go to what is left of Adam’s suit, which he took off next to the exit from the coolant system channel.

  “We can’t fix the visor,” Eve says. She picks up the helmet and cautiously moves her hand across the material. A shard hits the ground with a soft tinkling noise.

  “Looks worse than it is,” Adam remarks. “I just dropped it, accidentally.”

  “Can you imagine how shocked I was when I found the helmet?”

  “I can.”

  “And that happened after I had considered you dead for a long time.”

  “It was pretty stupid of me to sneak off the sled.”

  “If I had not pushed every available button in the control room...” Once again if, if, if, she thinks. That won’t help them, though. She swipes a hand through the air. “That’s all behind us now. We should take this thing to the control room. Perhaps Gronolf can fix it. Grab your suit, and we’ll take it to him. After that, we’ll go pick up my suit.”

  They walk back next to each other. During the trip, they pass by the side corridor where the drama with Marchenko 2 had happened.

  “Do you think it was right that I shot him?”

  “Yes, Eve. From what I’ve heard, that was the only thing you could do.”

  “I could have simply dropped the weapon.”

  “If wishes were horses...”

  “Beggars would ride,” Eve finishes. “Yeah, I thought about that same proverb several times today.”

  She doesn’t ask Adam whether he thought it was right of Marchenko to cut power to the impostor, as she already knows his answer.

  In the control room Eve shows the helmet to the alien. Gronolf sits in his chair, staring at the general with one eye, looking at her with another and aiming the third at a console. Eve points to the cracked visor. He massages his knees with his strong but coarse load-hands. He points at the exit with a touch-hand, then jumps up and almost bowls Eve over.

  Gronolf returns soon afterward with some foil. First he uses his load-hand to break off the remaining glass. He simply drops the shards. Then he briefly pushes the foil below the skin fold covering the pit o
f his stomach, probably to moisten it, and then he presses it firmly against the edge of the helmet. He counts to seven with the fingers of his other hand and then gives her the helmet. The foil seems to stick. Does it seal the inside completely?

  She hands the helmet to Adam. “Put it on.”

  Adam does what she asks. “The tip of my nose hits the foil, but otherwise it is fine.”

  “Do you think it is airtight?”

  “Hard to say. I would have to test it.” Adam blows against the foil, then he takes off the helmet and pushes against it with his fingers. The foil does not rip. “It should definitely withstand half an atmosphere of pressure within the suit,”

  “Fine. My suit is near the sleeping chambers.”

  Eve stands up and touches Gronolf’s load-arm near the shoulder. She points at the miniature display of the building and says: “Sleeping chamber!”

  “Leeping chamber?”

  “Sleeping chamber!”

  “Leeping chamber?” Gronolf scratches between his legs. Then he rubs his touch-hands. “Leeping chamber!” He points at the wall.

  At first Eve thinks he misunderstood her, but then a hidden door opens there. “An elevator,” she says with a smile. Now they won’t have to climb through the long, dark corridor.

  “Alavatar,” Gronolf confirms. “Retoko-tu!”

  “Retoko-tu,” Adam replies while Eve enters the compartment. It has enough room for at least three aliens. But she can’t find any buttons to operate it. Gronolf seems to have noticed her confusion and joins them. He apparently speaks a command in ultrasound—she doesn’t hear anything, but the elevator starts moving. Or, she wonders, maybe it only has one destination.

  As if Gronolf read her thoughts, the doors soon open in the tall hall with the sleeping chambers. It looks very different here all of a sudden, Eve thinks. It must be the light emanating directly from the walls. She pulls Adam with her to the wall where she left the lower part of her suit. Gronolf doesn’t say anything, but he follows them slowly. She briefly turns around to him. He looks like a bored adult who was given the job of watching a few playing children.

  The suit is still there. Eve expected that, but even so she feels a sense of relief. Together they carry it back to the elevator. It would have been so much simpler if they had better understood the alien technology!

  Eve wants to enter the cabin, but Gronolf gently pushes her back out with a touch-hand. “Retoko-na!” he says, “Alavatar later.”

  What does he want from them? Panic rises in her. Is he going to take his revenge because she killed his sleeping comrades? She has to calm down. Her cheeks must be flushed by now. In the almost glaring light that would be all too visible. Adam is giving her a puzzled look. He missed that part of the story.

  “I think I know what he wants,” Eve says to Adam.

  “Will you tell me?”

  “I... I can’t.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Eve? You look like you are in a total panic!”

  She jerks back. “Is it that obvious?”

  “It is. So, what is going on? Did I miss something? Did something embarrassing happen to you? No,” he says as he looks at her, “it is worse.”

  “You will see it soon, I believe.”

  Gronolf leads the way. He stops every few meters and waits for them. Eve tries to interpret his behavior, but that is impossible. She also does not dare to ask questions. Does Gronolf look more angry than usual? Has he polished his weapon? They are slowly walking along the rising path by the wall. When they reach the first sleeping chambers, Adam presses his face against the windows, out of sheer curiosity. She pulls him back.

  “What is it? Did you see that? They all look like Gronolf.”

  “Yes, I know,” she says. “Those are sleeping chambers. There are thousands like him here.”

  “So it’s no wonder he wants to save this building.”

  “But we knew that beforehand.”

  “Still, seeing it with one’s own eyes is different. Why didn’t you show this to me earlier?”

  “I... well, we just met each other again!”

  Adam does not pressure her any further. However, he still looks into every third or fourth sleeping chamber. Gronolf does not seem to mind and lets them do what they want.

  Because we are about to die? The question pops unbidden into Eve’s mind. No, I have to stop thinking about that.

  They move up level by level. Eve tries to remember. Where was the chamber with the dead Grosnop again? It can’t have been too far from the ground floor. Yet it is not her memory but her sense of smell that tells her they are approaching the ‘crime scene.’ The smell has definitively gotten worse. Eve wants to hold her nose, but she simply can’t do it. She has to tolerate the disgusting odor. And isn’t there a sour smell in the air, too, from the leftovers of her own stomach contents? She looks around on the floor to avoid stepping into her own vomit. This way she can at least distract herself from what is about to come.

  “Man, what a stench,” Adam says. He pinches his nose with his thumb and index finger. Gronolf marches on calmly, as far as she can tell. Or is he showing his anger by repeatedly moving his huge rear eyelid up and down in a fast rhythm? What does it mean that his touch-arms are interlaced and that one of his load-arms taps against the window of each chamber while he is moving, causing an unpleasant noise?

  “Is this going to take a long time?”

  Sometimes she could just wring Adam’s neck. “We are almost there, I think,” she replies.

  And indeed, Gronolf stops soon afterward. Eve sees that he stands near the couch of an open chamber. She knows what is going to be on the couch, even though the light dazzles her a bit.

  Adam walks around Gronolf to get a better look. “Well,” he says, “I expected more.”

  More? Three corpses, or a hundred? Adam must be really sick, Eve thinks. She steps next to the other side of Gronolf and turns pale. The couch is empty. Gronolf leans on it with his load-arm. He untangles his touch-arms, wraps the right one almost completely around his body and aims at himself.

  “Gronolf,” he says.

  So this must have been Gronolf’s sleeping chamber. Eve feels hot and knows her face must be beet-red.

  “What did you expect?” Adam asks. She does not answer.

  Gronolf gets down on his knees. Is this a kind of prayer? Then he starts rummaging below the couch and inside the chamber with all of his arms. How stupid of her! The alien is looking for something! He probably took something with him into the chamber before going to sleep.

  After two minutes he utters a dull sound and gets up. He is holding a flat, silver-colored object in his left touch-hand. He holds it in front of each of his four eyes in turn. Then he holds it closer to Adam and Eve without letting go of it. He presses a button she had not noticed before and the object flips open like a jewel case. Eve tries to see what is inside. Finally she realizes what Gronolf was looking for. Inside the case there is a three-dimensional image, a hologram, showing another Grosnop.

  “Murnaka,” Gronolf says. “Murnaka!” he screams.

  For about ten minutes the alien stands almost motionlessly beside the couch, then suddenly starts walking. He does not go back, but further upward. In spite of the warmth, Eve is starting to shiver. She had hoped to be spared this embarrassment.

  Now Gronolf is walking more slowly than before. He seems more content, as if he had already reached his destination and was only taking a casual stroll. She knows that perception must be wrong. The stench becomes stronger and stronger. And there it is. The next chamber is open. Eve sees from afar that this couch is not empty. Gronolf calmly walks toward the corpse. What might this sight mean for him? Eve slows down with every step. Yet one touch-arm waves her closer and the other one leads Adam until they both stand next to Gronolf and in front of the corpse disfigured by putrefaction.

  “Rugnar,” Gronolf says. This sounds like a name. He must have been an important man, Eve thinks automatically, and then she corrects
herself—important Grosnop. Tears stream down her face.

  “Hey,” Adam says. He comes closer and places a hand on her shoulder.

  “I killed him,” Eve sobs.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “What do you even know? You weren’t there.” She pushes his hand off her shoulder and then regrets it. It’s not his fault. “Sorry.”

  “Rugnar,” Gronolf says again, this time a bit louder. He folds his hands.

  “Please,” he says in English. The lid of the eye facing them is moving up and down again and again. “Please,” he repeats.

  Now Eve realizes what he might be trying to do, and she places her two hands in his four. Adam does the same.

  “Thank you,” Gronolf says.

  “Rugnar,” Eve answers, and Adam repeats the name.

  May 11, 19, Marchenko

  If the Majestic Draght does not change its speed, it will reach Messenger, and him, by midnight. Navigation in space reminds Marchenko of a roulette table in a casino, and he is the little ball. The wheel is turning faster, moving his orbit outward, and near him there is a much larger wheel in which a sphere the size of a soccer ball is rotating, instead of a small roulette ball. When the roulette ball and the soccer ball meet, he will have won the grand prize. It is almost impossible that this could happen by accident, but of course he is more than a roulette ball: Marchenko can determine how fast his wheel is turning and thus match his trajectory to that of the soccer ball. As long as that soccer ball does not upset his plans, they will rendezvous in a few hours.

  The body he will need then is already lying on the floor of the cabin. It is connected to the wall by cables and receives energy that way. His body is approximately as alive as a human in a persistent vegetative state. It can receive environmental signals, but cannot process them or react to them until his consciousness indwells it. Marchenko could use remote control to move it, but the body is not capable of autonomous motion. Nevertheless, the subsystems work, the cooling system keeps it at operating temperature, moving parts are lubricated, and the outer surfaces clean themselves.