Brynin2

by Thadd Evans

  On a beige screen, behind us, the gorge narrowed. If the ship flew straight back, it would smash into cliffs.

  Outside the cockpit window, the ship’s nose-mounted telescope crashed through an overhanging branch. Fortunately, the telescope didn’t break off.

  “I just finished creating the last vector,” Greg announced, his face tensed up. “The gorge is barely wide enough for our us to reach the platform.”

  I shook my head, irritated.

  “If you don’t steer carefully, we’ll smash into the mountains!”

  “How firm is the platform?”

  “Just a second.”

  “Will the x-rays and stats be ready soon?”

  “I don’t know how firm it is. The x-rays and stats should be available any minute.”

  Near the corner of an ivory screen, another impact alert appeared. The starboard wing tip was just about to hit a protruding rock. I stuck my hand over floating text. Starw.t.s2—the tiny starboard engine fired for a split second. At the same time, our bodies jerked sideways as ST7 moved port.

  Near the top of a gray screen, the port wing tip was four feet from a wall of snow.

  On a map, just under one hundred twenty feet directly below our ship, the Xah was slightly narrower than ST7. I shoved my hand through floating syntax. Sh.acc.30power. The main engine roared louder—the ship lurched forward, barely missed falling rocks—went straight down.

  I stuck several fingers inside floating text. Portw.lift.40power. The port wing rose until the craft was sideways—ST7 whizzed by rocky walls.

  As my adrenaline pumped harder, the port wing descended until the ship was level.

  Greg wiped sweat off his forehead. “That was horrible. I thought we were going to smash into that cliff.”

  “So did I.

  “X and stat?”

  “The center of the platform, a structure composed of Resin Forty-One, a sturdy compound, is cracked. There is a sixty percent chance that it can support ST Seven.

  “However, if we land too abruptly, the impact might destroy the platform.”

  I nodded. Unfortunately, if we touched down anywhere else at the bottom of the Xah, a place where snow had accumulated on soft dirt, our ship would tip over.

  I squinted, trying to see text more clearly. “So far, COV Ten can’t always predict wind turbulence accurately.”

  Greg frowned. “I know. Although I’ve updated it, it’s far from being flawless.”

  “I hope you’re still tracking turbulence and updating the variables.”

  He shook his head, irritated. “Under these conditions?”

  “Okay.” He was right. Trying to predict if the wind would push us up or down was impossible because the wind changed directions as it went over rocks and cliffs.

  “The platform is twenty thousand fifty-two feet below us,” Greg announced.

  Suddenly, gusting wind knocked us starboard. I rammed my fingers through floating text. Starw.t.s2—the starboard engine came on and shut off. ST7 veered port—glided under a protruding ledge.

  “How did you anticipate that wind?”

  “Instinct.”

  “You’ve got the quickest reflexes I’ve ever seen.”

  I smiled.

  Greg tapped a screen, parsing data.

  “ETA?” I dragged a finger over a screen while thinking about our estimated time of arrival.

  “At our current rate, eleven minutes, ten seconds.”

  “Oxygen content?” If there wasn’t enough of it at the bottom of the gorge, from time to time we would have to use our back-mounted air tanks.

  “Bottom of the Xah is Status Three.”

  “Glad it isn’t Status One.” If it was that low, we would have to use the tanks about every six minutes. As a result, the oxygen supply would last about two days.

  “Agreed.”

  “How cold is it at the bottom of the gorge?”

  “Thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit. I fucking hate cold weather!”

  “Tritium use is up eight point one percent.” Although we had enough fuel to reach Icir, it was better to have more of it for emergencies.

  “Understood.” Greg huffed. “I’ll search for D24’s cities. Hopefully, they have some.”

  A section of the map enlarged. Close to the edge of it, on top of a mountain peak, I noticed a four hundred foot diameter, thirty-foot high building, a structure with a landing pad on its roof. A circular barrier, five feet tall, surrounded the lower half of the structure, a dwelling covered by walls, not open to the air.

  “Is that the only town on D24?” I paused, thinking.

  “It’s the only one within a two thousand mile radius of this gorge. Its name is Solo.

  “According to the maps, the rest of D24 is deserted. But it’s difficult to scan the bottom of every gorge. Someone might have erected homes in caves or deep within tree groves, places at the bottom of gorges.”

  I raised my eyebrows, surprised that this was the only municipality on this planet. “How far is Solo from our destination?”

  “Just under twenty-one miles.”

  I nodded.

  “Most of these peaks are just under forty thousand feet high.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll deliver the packages,” Greg said, a relieved tone.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Who lives in an icy hole like this?”

  “Good question.”

  “BLF at Grid X Two, Y Ten, but it just went off the screen.”

  “Understood.” BLF was a biological life form. This creature might be a wolf, an ADA humanoid woman or man robot. Despite the fact that ADA, advance design androids, resembled homo sapiens, Aito and other humanoid races, their entire bodies were made of plastic.

  “Whatever it was, it’s gone.”

  Greg muttered to himself, an unhappy tone.

  “Any more stats?”

  “No.”

  On screen, 600 feet directly below us, every inch of the ground was covered by snow. Next to the platform, a short winding path led toward a one story high white building, a boxy structure without any windows.

  “Someone named Obsu is expecting the packages,” Greg said. “I just decoded his message.”

  “Was the message in Qoowo or Aito?”

  “Aito. Just about every paragraph refers to the Colid River.”

  A nose-mounted transmitter projected a 3-D holographic grid directly above the platform, inches from it. ST7 went starboard and plummeted, headed toward the center of the grid.

  A blast of air hit our craft. The tail rose several feet.

  Greg blurted, “Damn this wind!”

  As sweat dripped off my chin, the front wheel touched down in two-foot deep powder. The wind blew harder—the craft jerked port. Both rear wheels hit the platform with a loud thump! Although we were in a safe position, ST7 might slide off.

  Greg exhaled, releasing tension. “It’s time to deliver the packages.”

  “Understood.”

  “This won’t take long. My HMR is activated.” The high-speed memory recall device was still on. “If there are any problems you can reach me any time.” He left the bridge.

  I stuck my hand inside 3-D floating code. Zoom.sh.8000 percent. Near the top of a screen, a mile beyond the gorge, a twenty-two thousand foot high cliff, a hazy image, focused. The area was empty, no houses anywhere.

  Outside the window, Pohum reached the building. The door opened. He walked inside.

  This was odd. He had purchased a ticket for Icir.

  Why hadn’t he told me about his change of plans?

  A minute later, outside the window, Greg started down the same path. Behind him, two carts, devices with packages on them, accelerated.

  He stepped inside the building, both carts behind him.

  Near the bottom of a navigation screen, vectors (6,7) disappeared.

  What happened to them? We needed new vectors, helpful guides, or else the ship would smash into a cliff after takeoff. As chills ran up my
spine, I shoved my hand inside a floating holographic screen, a tool designed for navigation.

  Near the edge of a turquoise screen, hazy, partly assembled coordinates faded. (6…). Blurred parentheses, icons with three dots inside them, came out of the background. The software, COV10, was malfunctioning.

  I stuck my fingers inside the dots. They were replaced by syntax -//-. A computer virus had corrupted COV10. That was easy enough to repair.

  “Sc.vir.run,” I said, activating a utility.

  Code rolled down the screen. Server.tcp-ap.ob1

  server.tcp-ap.ob2

  server.tcp-ap.ob3

  server.tcp-ap.ob4

  Any virus would be destroyed in a few minutes.

  On a gray screen, just over a hundred and twenty yards down the gorge, halfway up a cliff, a four-foot high white creature, just a blur, ran across a snowy ledge and vanished into swirling mist.

  At the bottom of a beige screen, an evergreen, not an animal, began shaking, blown by the wind. I couldn’t see the creature anywhere.

  Chapter Six

  Near the bottom of the navigation screen, icons (…) brightened. There weren’t any new coordinates available. The virus killer failed.

  I left the bridge, hurrying toward the computer room. After entering it, I looked up. Near the top of a server, a tray, one with the small COV10 disk inside it, slid out. I removed the disk.

  Close to the center of it, there was a long scratch. Someone ruined the disk by dragging a sharp object across it.

  Damn!

  We were stranded on D24 because the software wouldn’t create vectors. Although Greg could make a few of them, we would smash into a cliff because the wind shifted frequently. COV10 produced thousands of vectors, alternate routes, in a few minutes.

  There was only one choice—we had to reach Solo, and find a new disk.

  First of all, we needed to search for a trail. Knowing that it was best to show the disk to any software merchant to make sure I was buying the right product, I placed the disk inside a tiny box, shoved it in my chest pocket, and left the room.

  After entering the bridge, I announced, “Search.oit.cm.radius.20m.”

  A map displayed information.

  Latitude N24.421323 degrees, longitude E91.4752

  latitude N24.421327 degrees, longitude E91.47523

  latitude N24.421328 degrees, longitude E91.47521

  latitude N24.421329 degrees, longitude E91.47520

  latitude N24.421330 degrees, longitude E91.47519. The optical interferometric telescope had just scanned the Xah and found the bottom of a trail, a route leading into the Bae Dy Gorge. The trailhead was just over a mile from us.

  Snow might be blocking the trail. Could we use the air scooter? No, it couldn’t scale the cliffs or fly over any trails because they were too narrow.

  Near the edge of my screen, text expanded. Measuring trail length.

  Could we reach Solo, or did the trail end five miles from it? “Vera, if everyone climbs the trail, how long will the wafers last?”

  Two weeks.

  What if two passengers remain on ST Seven?”

  Because there were many answers, she sent them into my HMR, allowing me to study the data slowly, not make a snap judgment.

  After examining them for a while, I spoke into the HMR. “Vera, what if someone breaks their ankle?”

  Her answers drifted across my screen.

  More questions popped into my head. If the trail was intact, it would be longer than twenty miles because every trail was curved. How much farther? Thirty miles? Twenty-one?

  We would take as many wafers as we could. If the passengers accompanied us, everyone would have to carry several pounds.

  A question came to mind. How well would my mechanical left leg, robotic left arm and bio-polymer left eye hold up in these subzero temperatures? I never exposed them to more than sixteen days of freezing temperatures.

  My artificial leg, arm and eye were less than two years old. I remembered the flying accident that had destroyed my original limbs and eye. But that was the past. I wanted to forget about it.

  More text appeared. The trail, a horizontal plane, is six point two miles long. OIT will continue probing.”

  OIT, an optical interferometric telescope, kept panning, searching for other narrow horizontal surfaces, trails, rough or smooth ones.

  Outside the window, the building door opened. Greg came out, the carts behind him. As he hiked up the winding path, I sent him a message about the scratched disk. Then I hurried toward the passenger compartment, a spherical room.

  After entering it, I peered down.

  All the passenger’s boots were covered in snow. They had been outside for a few minutes.

  “I have bad news.” I told them about the scratched disk.

  “I didn’t touch it!” Tia opened her eyes wider, stunned.

  Yar’s message appeared on my screen. This is horrible. Who would do such a thing?

  Palk banged his fists together, an Aito hand gesture. “Di dei ofa.”

  At the edge of my screen, his message expanded. This act of destruction will hurt all of us!

  Paley scowled. “Agri hra. Omi ha.”

  Beneath Palk’s message, Paley’s came into view. Palk is right. Because of this, we may freeze to death.

  Yeliv shook his head, disgusted.

  Bemme’s forehead tightened. “Ani mai ne.”

  A translation came out of my earplugs. Now we’re in trouble!

  I spoke into my tablet. “Greg and I will be leaving for Solo in about fifty minutes. Everyone can come with us or remain on ST Seven. Either way, we’ll give you food, water and sleeping bags soon.

  “Unfortunately, there are BLF’s in this gorge and we don’t have any weapons.”

  The device translated the statement and exported messages to each passenger in his or her own language

  “I’d like to go with the two of you,” Tia announced.

  I nodded.

  “Jason, don’t you have an air scooter or an APU climber?” Bemme turned toward me, an irritated expression on her face.

  “Our air scooter doesn’t have enough power to fly up these cliffs. We don’t have an APU climber.” The APU, an all-purpose utility vehicle, resembled a crab.

  “Do you have any laser pistols, rifles or grenade launchers?” Bemme crossed both arms across her chest.

  “No. We follow SP protocol. Carrying weapons violates those guidelines.”

  Behind Tia, in the shadows, a stomping sound got louder as Greg came up the steps.

  “Jason, did you tell them about the scratched disk?” Greg knocked snow off his boots.

  “Yes.” He and I pivoted, headed for the bridge.

  “Rayta.” Palk coughed.

  My earplugs translated. I’m cold.

  After Greg and I entered the bridge, I glanced at him. “Did all the passengers buy tickets for Icir, not D24?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see Pohum walk into that building?”

  “No.”

  “He entered that building before you did.”

  Greg flinched.

  “Anyway, I thought Pohum’s final destination was Icir.” Greg’s eyes narrowed, a sign that he was upset. “Pohum might have destroyed the disk.”

  I paused, thinking. “That could be, but I don’t know why.”

  “We never threatened him.”

  “Exactly. What did you notice about the client?”

  “I went down a short hallway, entered a small room and handed the packages to a short Glemal man in a beige jumpsuit. He checked them carefully, paid me and I left. It was simple.”

  I stuck one hand over my screen and meaningless syntax appeared. … Pohum wouldn’t respond to my message. I peered out the window and noticed an empty lot, a spot covered by snow. The building that Greg had just entered was gone! “Greg, look outside.”

  “What’s wrong?” He glanced over his shoulder. “What the hell is going on?” After biting his lip, fr
ustrated, he walked—plopped down next to a computer, and shoved one hand through floating text. Mon5.scan.rgb

  mon4.scan.infra

  mon3.scan.uv

  Near the center of a green monitor, a grayer empty lot, the results of a visible light scan, materialized.

  Greg scowled. “According to these latest probes, it’s gone. But how can an entire building disappear in a few seconds? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Perhaps nanorobots took it apart.”

  His eyes shifted back and forth, “If they did, they’re faster than any prototypes I’ve ever seen.”

  “Anyway, we’re low on wafers and vitamin capsules. Let’s hike to Solo and worry about the missing building later.”

  Greg clenched his fist, angry. “I’d like to stand on the vacant lot and scan it.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Thanks.” He rushed away.

  I stuck one hand inside floating text, information that was close to my tablet’s screen, activating the ship’s telescopes. Now they would send me data if I was eighty miles from ST7 or closer.

  Greg complained, his voice coming out of my earplugs. “There isn’t anything here. It’s flat, completely covered by snow, no signs of any walls or floors. I don’t see any nanorobots.”

  “They might have withdrawn the building into the ground.”

  “It’s too bad we don’t have an excavator,” he announced, referring to a bulldozer model that he had seen on Red 10.

  “We’d better leave soon.”

  “I’ll return in a moment to help shut down the ship and pack the camping equipment.”

  “Understood.”

  Chapter Seven

  Greg and I started up the trail. Then I glanced over my shoulder.

  Not far behind us, misty silhouettes, Yar, Palk, Paley, Yeliv and Bemme, figures partly obscured by fog, stepped over ice-covered rocks. At the top of their face masks, equipment that had just come out of their collars, lights switched on, making it easier to see this part of the gorge, a place with poorly illuminated rock walls.

  Near the top of Palk’s forehead, his frontalis muscle rose, a Mlaan gesture indicating that he was terrified of freezing to death.

  At the bottom of Paley’s chin, a skin flap extended slightly. This response to his friend meant that he was just as frightened as Palk.

  I admired their ability to communicate with each other using body language, one that had taken me a long time to figure out. I turned toward Greg and told him about this recent discovery.