by Geoff Nelder
“If only that red blob on the right was a steakhouse,” Penn said to his stomach in reply to its grumbling.
As before, they agreed not to split up, but not to wave their pistols either, just have them to hand.
“It’s a ghost town,” Delta said, “although the night time image showed some artificial light here.”
“Where, exactement? It might be that this settlement is only sporadically occupied or… I do not know whether to think it is being built or being abandoned. Every dome-like building is different although I see no cracks. Round holes that might be windows but no doors.”
Delta consulted her wrist comms display. “Northwest, three hundred metres, give or take. That showed the strongest night-time light.”
“Right,” Penn said, “let’s go and knock on their…erm…wall.”
Gaston’s neck tingled when he passed by the building that resembled a huge red berry. His discomfort increased the more they walked. He should mention it, but didn’t enjoy Penn’s jibes at his sensitivity.
“Are anyone else’s nerves jangling?” Penn whispered.
Gaston laughed at himself then shut up in case he missed an instruction to be quiet even though they were walking in plain sight.
Delta held up her hand. “I think we should stop for a minute. It’s like a strong electrostatic force. Suppose We has the right charge meter but look at Em’s hair.”
She must have washed her hair that morning. Strands not tied into her ponytail were flicked up. “It’s as if I’m walking under a high voltage transmission line.”
“Or over one,” Delta said.
They all looked at their feet as if they could see a buried cable.
Gaston wondered if it could be to keep the mega-bacteria away. Or them.
Penn shook himself, an interesting vibration from head downwards as if that would deny the static access to his body. He pointed at a pink building on their left that had all the appearance of a flattened grapefruit.
“There’s an opening down to near ground level. Maybe it’s their local diner. Shall we?”
Delta led the way, saying, “I am suffering serious French fries withdrawal symptoms.”
“Salted with ketchup,” added Em.
Gaston would partake too with the addition of a grilled bean burger even though he enjoyed experimenting with the local fruit, leaves and nuts. He knew that they were wishful thinking, but it was being positive that kept them going.
Like the horizontal shape of the building, the doorway was also oval.
Delta reached it first, but hesitated before entering. “I can’t see a doorbell, should I knock?”
Under Delta’s arm, Gaston poked his head into the aperture, noting a complete lack of a door. “A polite cough, peut être?”
Penn pulled the Frenchman back out. “Watch out, Gas, suppose there is a door and it comes down like Madame Guillotine?”
Gaston released a short laugh, but he fingered his neck.
Delta shook her head. “Oh, come off it, boss. You lot stay behind, just in case.”
She stepped over the low lip of the oval and was lost to sight, followed by a crash. “I’m all right, fell over a table. It might have had burgers, switching on my wrist-light.”
“Yeah,” Penn said, “Never too late to do the right thing.”
Gaston saw her light beaming around, probably seeking a light switch, but they were more likely to use sensors, which meant that this building didn’t detect humans. She should withdraw.
“Delta, come out tout de suite. I think it might be dangerous.” As he spoke, the butterfly left his backpack and half circled the dwelling before flying off.
“Papillon, is it too dangerous for you too?”
Em had taken a backwards step while throwing a frown at Gaston. If she’d said anything, it was drowned out by noises from inside the building.
A sound like a wardrobe falling over, followed by a giggle. Her light continued to flit around. Gaston would have concentrated on the floor to prevent falls, or to spot creatures and traps.
“More light is needed in there,” he said, looking in his backpack for their camping light and failing.
Penn also searched his bag. “We could set our lasers on broadbeam, or better still, give her some windows.” He walked around to the wall with sun on it and pointed. “How high do you think?”
Gaston had followed him. “Don’t shoot, Penn. You don’t know what these walls are made of. They might explode, or kill Delta.”
While Penn stood wavering, apparently considering such objections, Em was shouting into the doorway, “Delta, come out. Penn’s being an imbecile again.”
Gaston had walked round to Penn's right to put out a good hand to restrain his commander. "Sir?"
Too late, it seemed that Gaston's action forced the big man to assert his role and a short burst of laser hit the pink wall two metres high where the curvature into a domed roof became pronounced.
Gaston breathed out noisily in desperation, but at least the burning hole was above Delta’s head height, unless she’d climbed a level.
Penn released a short laugh, as if embarrassed by his impetuous behaviour and said, “There, she has light now. Should I drill more?”
“No! Regardez, the hole is spreading.”
“So it is. Poor building material to melt like that.”
The Frenchman shook his head in anger. He stayed just a moment longer to see the hole spread like melting cheese, dripping yellow onto the pink beneath, before he ran around to the front where Em still shouted for Delta to come out.
Gaston saw that the blackness within now had a shaft of light from the new window. He called, “Delta come back out now, the building might collapse.”
He didn’t wait. He stepped over the entrance lip and stood a metre inside. The stench of burning plastic made him grip his nose, but he had to let go to switch his laser to broad beam, lighting up the interior in contrasting black and white.
Not a café. No chairs or stools for the floating locals. An uncluttered smooth, but undulating floor. It was as if the architectural rules of Kepler forbad the straight and level. What on Earth might be different sized bean bags occupied the sides. He strode to another doorway at the rear of the room and waved his light.
“Delta, are you back there? Come out or shout s’il vous plait!”
No response. He turned to shout behind to Em, wishing they’d agreed to switch on their radio implants. None of them like the way the implants crackle. He switched his on anyway. “Em, I can’t see her, so moving farther in. Do you read?”
No reply from her either. She’d be shouting in by now. Perhaps the acoustics disallowed. He was torn between going back to the entrance and persisting in chasing after Delta. Suppose she’d become trapped in an inner chamber? The bacteria slime floor again. He must be cautious. He took a few steps back until he could see Em and waved. She waved back and her mouth moved, but no sound reached him. He pointed at his ears.
“Gas, can you hear me now?” Her voice waved through his head from the implant.
“Oui. No sign of her, so I’m going deeper in. You stay there. That hole of Penn’s is enlarging, don’t let him melt the whole building with us inside it!”
He turned and stepped carefully but quickly to the inner doorway and shone his light through it.
To his astonishment it was full of orange-coloured strings floor to ceiling, as if he was inside a loom. His call hardly croaked out of his astonished mouth.
“Delta, you are not in here, surely? If you are, we need to leave before Penn turns this building into a perforated Raclette.” No reply.
He had to dare himself to use his pistol as a tool to push aside the strings that were a hand’s width apart. They parted easily, but he couldn’t see more than a metre into the room. He used his handheld with the sensors pointed between the strands which glowed when disturbed. Temperature twenty Celsius, eight less than outside in the sun. No dangerous emissions.
He ventured
into them, his disturbance agitating the strings to emit their tangerine light all the more, along with a sound—a plaintive B-flat.
“Delta? Em, can you hear me?”
“Yes, but not see you. Penn’s with me. He says the building has a circular ground plan so he’s thinking of making a doorway for you and Delta to exit. It’s his way of apologising for setting the place afire.”
“No, Em, don’t let him burn more holes. Wait. Are you saying the first room is now in flames?” He looked back and it was true. Merde.
Penn’s voice crackled into Gaston’s implant. “I have to make you an escape exit, you ungrateful bastard. Keep clear of the farthest rear point. I won’t use my laser. Keep looking for Delta.”
As if he needed to be told. However, keeping away from the far wall wasn’t easy when disorientation became the norm in this building. Plus, he didn’t know if there was a third room, or more. This one was like being inside a butternut squash or a three-dimensional orange harp and now with a spongy floor. Perhaps she’d fallen into a cellar, but he found no holes. A sweet honey-like aroma fought against the burning stench as he felt the rounded wall – a rough texture – for another opening and finding none until a stick suddenly punched in, barely missing his bad hand.
Gaston stepped back as the hole enlarged with the aid of Penn’s boot. Smoke curled around his head.
“Get yourself out here,” Penn called. “The building is about to collapse.”
“One more look in here,” Gaston called, desperate to locate their missing companion. “Delta, call out! Penn has made a back exit!”
Smoke finally forced him to stumble to the rear again where Penn reached in, grabbed his left arm and yanked him outside.
The three of them looked helplessly on as the pink became black then a heap of ashes. Orange and black smoke twisted upwards as if signalling the presence of inept humans.
Em collapsed in uncontrollable sobbing. When he wiped his own tears away, Gaston was in a way relieved to see that Penn’s face was wet. He wanted to yell at the commander that the fire was his fault… but what was the point? He must know it and live with it, forever.
Em tried to say something but her crying obscured her words. Penn might have understood her because he was waving his big arms about.
“She walked into that building. How could she disappear? It wasn’t a portal to somewhere else, was it?”
“I did not find such,” Gaston replied miserably. “However, the floor in the rear room was soft. Perhaps…”
“Why didn’t you say?” yelled Penn, snorting his nostrils empty. He grabbed the stick he’d found to puncture the wall and walked up to the detritus and prodded downwards.
“Ah, too much covering, some of it congealed plating of some sort. What the…?”
Penn ran to behind Em, still kneeling, picked her up by her elbows and dragged her several metres back on the grass-like ground.
“Gaston, wise up man, the building’s… erm… changing!”
Through bleary eyes, he saw the mound of blackened pink agitating. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes to try and focus. The debris remained unclear, a smudge, but one that vibrated upwards. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see a giant mole emerge. Perhaps Delta was being pushed up! He staggered forward, but Penn held him back.
“I’m not losing you too, buddy.”
It wasn’t Delta no matter how he wished it. Having seen so much strangeness, his eyebrows lifted when out of the ashes a circular wall rose incrementally. Pink. Clean. An architectural phoenix making his jaws drop. He still looked back to the cliff and towards the town to see if Delta would suddenly appear, but the apparition kept his feet rooted. Em remained lachrymose on the ground and brushed off attempts by either man to comfort her.
“Give her time, Gaston.”
After half an hour, when the new wall reached waist height and began its inward curve, Gaston walked over to check on where the doorway should be. It was there, plus the dividing interior wall.
He returned to sit on the grass with Em, but talked to Penn, who kept touching the growing wall, reporting on its initial stickiness, but which dried in moments.
“Penn, I know we cannot expect Earth standards, but the lack of any kind of emergency services? No locals come to stand and stare?”
The big man looked up at the sky. “Maybe that’s not strictly the case. I’ve noticed those birds flitting around from time to time.”
Gaston followed his leader’s gaze. “We should record them next time. I don’t think they’re organic. Ah, I understand. You suspect they are monitoring us. Somewhere, something is watching us.”
Penn gave a curt nod while surveying their surroundings more earnestly. “They must know this building was abandoned. Maybe didn’t register Delta entering and so there was no emergency here. Assuming the bastards would’ve come. We’d better go around to where we left our packs. Check if Suppose We is visible from the remote sensing satellite.”
He bent down and bodily lifted Em as if she was a toddler. It didn’t look as if she’d noticed because she remained in a foetal position, helpless.
Gaston frowned.
CAPTAIN CAN’S MUSINGS BUT WHERE IS MY SHIP?
They’ve left me alone. The Keps. And their flitter, fluttering servants. Spies.
They are of no use to me. I seek organic samples. Microscopic. Probably.
Meanwhile I amuse myself.
I am permitted to fly around Nucleus, the name I give to this centre.
As in atoms there are electron towns. Satellites. A million. Sparsely distributed, barely populated after their plague. The surviving Keps here remain in danger, but make no attempt to communicate with me. Not curious, nor annoyed. Merely drift about doing whatever organics do. I will attempt to interrogate the fliers.
I relay to the comms satellite, but no reply from the crew, though I see their sigs. One is displaced from the others. I send a new memo. Suppose We is here in Nucleus. I saw it restored, but sinking. Memo to myself: If much of native pop is beneath the surface, I might need to calve and send a smaller me underground. It would be a subset of a subset of Suppose We.
Signed CAN (as in sCant)
Date: Earth January 19th 3645 Kepler New 10 days
After lingering outside the pink house with their belongings for an hour with Em having cried herself dry but remaining on the grass, Penn spoke softly. “We can’t stay here for much longer, Em. We need to find if any part of this settlement has local life, shelter for us, and maybe some goddamn food.”
Gaston saw Penn about to put his arm around the woman as if to pull her up, so the Frenchman stood between them. A more aggressive stance than he’d ever done with any senior officer senior. He expected an angry reaction from the big man and from Em, but Gaston wrapped his admittedly short arms around her. To his relief, she put her head on his chest and looked up. It was as if her eyes were huge blue dew drops, melting into her face. He kissed remaining tears.
They tasted of the sea. He wondered if this planet’s oceans were as salty as those on Earth and when he’d be able to find out.
A pinging from Delta’s backpack announced a message received.
Em perked up. “That must be from the AI.”
Gaston reached for it. “Oui, we knew we were having problems with those artificial brains while on the ship, but there is an increased rate of the bizarre. However, I have been attempting to talk to those birds like our AI, or CAN, says it is able to, but non. I am uncertain if my device can send such terahertz signals let alone run the necessary processing speed, bandwidth and interpretation software.”
He checked the message and turned to Penn. “Mes amis, it says our ship is restored!”
Penn grinned. “Good, I should be able to get it to fly here to us.”
“What are we to do when it arrives?” Em asked, finally on her feet.
Penn snarled. “I’ve a mind to just leave, report back about this planet and how it’s unsuitable for homo sapiens, and—”
Em stood up straighter. “We can’t leave. Delta might still be alive.”
“Quite so,” Gaston said, though sadly, he doubted it. “Sir, in what ways would you report this Kepler-20h as being wrong for us? I am warming to it.”
Penn held out his hand, sticking up a finger ready to tally. “One: it already has intelligent life who show no signs of cooperating. Two: not quite enough oxygen, which will be a problem long term—I’ll take objections later, Gaston. Three: there’s a mysterious plague bacteria that eats our limbs—later I said. Four: it’s facing an imminent attack by planet-sized spheres, so will be uninhabitable soon because the locals aren’t listening to us. Five: our science officer reckons there’s no predators here, which means unless we assert ourselves there no—”
“Beef-burgers,” Em said, “how awful for you. As for oxygen, it would be feasible to use terraform techniques. For example, modify algae to produce far more than it does now. Some ideas are in a file on Suppose We compiled by Delta when…but…she…” Em’s composure fell apart into more tears.
Gaston hugged her. “I agree with Penn on one thing.”
Penn’s mouth opened in shock. Em stopped crying.
Gaston heard at least one of them say, “You’re kidding!” He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, not that laughing was really bubbling to the surface with Delta missing.
“Vraiment, I mean to say that he is right that the fact of giant spheres heading is a worry, but we have a mission. We should continue being as positive as we can.”
Penn harrumphed and pointed down what might’ve been Main Street. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna get Suppose We up here with us. So much more we can do with its resources and powerful radio, plus—”
Em interrupted him, “Our bio-sensors are being monitored too. Let’s see if Delta’s signs are still vital.”
Gaston fired off queries to CAN. ‘1) is Suppose We operational and can we remotely signal it to come here; 2) please check on Delta’s status, because we have lost her.’