In Between the Stars

by A. A. Ripley

  Inan came back to the wall. She had this feeling that, whatever the strange phenomenon was, it was also an answer to the mysteries of this place.

  ‘It is a wall, Inan,’ said Hijinks, clearly amused by the intensity Inan put into examining this part of the corridor.

  ‘Put out the light,’ said Inan, hoping that the brilliant heat-signature would come back. ‘You too, Alan.’

  ‘Huh? You can actually see in the darkness?’

  ‘I can see heat, Alan, and there is definitely something hot here apart from us three.’

  ‘There it is again!’ called Inan, when the lights were finally out.

  ‘What is it? What do you see?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ said Inan, tracing the heat arch with her finger. The strands here were smoother than those above them; they felt almost wet, like glass or re-phased metal when it’s cold. But Inan could both see and feel the warmth that emanated from them, as from coils under electromagnetic induction.

  But there was nothing else there. No switch or button or latch. There was no crack or depression for Inan to probe with her talon.

  Inan saw Hijinks approaching from the side, touching the wall as she approached. The marsupial couldn’t see the heat curtain, but could surely feel it. Suddenly, something changed in the waterfall pattern; the cycling colours lost their rhythm. Now the strands were just pulsating with oranges and reds, abandoning the cooler shades. But the blues, yellows, purples and greens returned as soon as Hijinks stepped away from the heat arch.

  ‘Hijinks, come back here,’ said Inan, intrigued with the change that Hijinks seemed to cause. The wall lit up again with the orange-red cycle.

  ‘Alan, come over,’ said Inan, struck with a suspicion.

  When Alan approached the wall, the pulsating stopped. Inan saw the strand arch turn stable, succulent red, like the face of this system’s sun. There was a crack. The wall moved. With just a faint hiss of equalising pressure the doors opened, letting in a warm whiff of air and a dim, yellow light.

  ‘Start recording,’ said Inan to Alan.

  They went through the opened arch and into a long gallery extended over a deep dark chasm. The gallery was built from the same strands as the structures above ground. Here the strands seemed lighter and newer, coming together to create harmonious structures, pillars, slopes and hanging bridges. All of them were spiralling gently down into the shadows, softened by the yellow light that had no clear source but seemed to seep from the air itself.

  The gallery led them to a chamber, so tall that its ceiling was lost to the darkness, where the soft yellowness of the dim light could not reach.

  ‘That is something different,’ said Alan, slowly moving the cone of light over the ceiling and walls.

  The chamber was round with the floor rising gently in places and forming small depressions in others. The walls were lined with filigree conduits, rising up from the floor like artificial stalagmites, converging somewhere high up above their heads. The light cast from their torches shimmered in their reflective surface and caused irregular shadows to move in the nooks and crannies of their construction. The air was still and silent, but Inan could feel a slight vibration, like a sound just below her range of hearing. The change was so subtle that Inan thought she was imagining it, but then she realised that there was a heat source somewhere on her left, and front, and directly above her.

  ‘Something is coming,’ she said quietly.

  ‘What?’ asked Alan and Hijinks.

  ‘Something strange,’ she whispered back.

  In the corner of her eye she could see heat signatures unlike any she had ever seen. It was as if pockets of hot air were suspended in mid-flight, circling them like curious clouds.

  The air began to ripple, moved by an unseen heat current. The conduits started to vibrate under the pressure of the air moving upwards. The vibration grew stronger and louder, changing the pitch, stopping and starting again. The sound produced by the bizarre construction fluctuated like an alien song produced by inexplicable throats. The high notes lowered, travelling down the scale, acquired more familiar modulation and finally…

  ‘You and you and you,’ said the conduits, ‘are not welcomed.’

  ‘Who are you?’ said Inan. ‘Where are you? Come out so we can see you.’

  ‘See us? You, egg-born infant, can see us in this abode, this aspect of the cosmos. But not you and you. We are Hidden Dwellers for you and you.’

  ‘What is this thing talking about?’ said Alan.

  ‘Heat,’ said Inan, realising why the signatures were so strange. ‘They’re pure heat.’

  ‘Whisper not; speak,’ called the voices.

  ‘Where are the xenoarcheologists? Where is Linai-Linai? Did something happen to them?’ Inan spilled the questions as they came into her head.

  She felt a rush of air, as though the Hidden Dwellers were taking a deep, collective breath. Then the conduits began vibrating again, like the vocal chords of a giant.

  ‘They are no more, those that want to find us. Those that want to bring us back to this aspect of the cosmos. They are no longer present in this aspect. We made their presence null, removed as we shall make your presence null. This abode needs to remain solitary. Our sole view into this aspect.’

  A sudden chill crept upon Inan, when she grasped the meaning of those enigmatic words. She didn’t understand exactly what “making null” entailed, but she realised that it would be a fate as bad as death, maybe even worse. She felt an urge to say something, quickly, before the strange beings followed with their plan.

  ‘The expedition found you. We found you too,’ said Inan, putting as much confidence into her voice as possible. ‘Others are sure to come too. Making us null will not keep you hidden for long. Others will follow because they all want to know what this is.’

  Inan pulled out the black disc and held it in her outstretched hand.

  A new sound came from the conduits, a series of rhythmic notes, breathy and rapid. They are laughing! thought Inan.

  The new sound stopped as suddenly as it had started.

  ‘A toy, a piece of new-born’s delight. We gave it to an infant race when we grew beyond this aspect of the universe. Careless infants made themselves null with it.’

  ‘Xelatilpha,’ said Hijinks, who had kept silent since the heat-door opened.

  That word was known to Inan. There was a book, one of those that she was forbidden from reading. The young Mother Librarian was no match for Inan’s patience and curiosity. And so Inan knew that sometimes there would be a strip of white tiles running along an equator of a planet, or a longitude of a moon. It would be so closely laid that it was impossible to slip a blade of grass between them. A handful of objects would be recovered on a remote site. With elongated handles, ending with a twisted shape, the fragile-looking ancient ceramics would be too hard for a plasma cutter to leave a mark. A husk of a space vessel would drift sometimes into the range of an info-hub, graceful and advanced beyond comprehension. But it would be hollowed out as the shell of a dead animal eaten from inside by insects. That was all to mark the past existence of the xelatipha people, the word itself taken from ao language meaning “next to nothing”. For there was next to nothing known about that race. No sign written, or picture drawn or sound recorded was left after them. No name or homeworld coordinates. The speculation of the xenoarcheologist brought thousands of theories about the xelatipha, their existence, their disappearance.

  ‘Call xelatilpha what we call Careless Infants,’ the Hidden Dwellers reverberated. ‘A disappointment that couldn’t master a toy.’

  ‘But what is it, this thing? What is it exactly?’

  ‘Children may call it “Actuality Regulator”. It is a toy to change reality at the child’s will.’

  ‘You can rewrite reality with this machine?’ said Alan, a sudden understanding seeping into his
voice.

  ‘Rewrite, remould, remake, renew. We played and grew bored with it. The infant race we gave it to made itself null with it. Careless Infants are no more.’

  ‘That’s why humans – why Cochrane – wants to have it,’ Inan corrected herself.

  ‘Such power. Win war… no. Change universe around war,’ said Hijinks.

  ‘Children squabbling over toys, tedious noise. We do not wish this abode to be in the playground. We are leaving this aspect of cosmos in the hands of the children. Too noisy for the mature beings – the children’s playground.’

  ‘No! Don’t leave!’ called Inan. ‘What should we do with the disc? Where is this Actuality Regulator?’

  But there was no response. Instead, a point of light started to glow, suspended in mid-air. And another one just next to it, and another and another. A whole cloud of lights formed before their eyes, spiralling from the sides toward the centre, where they concentrated into a dense core.

  ‘It’s… a galaxy,’ said Inan, absorbing the spectacle.

  ‘Our galaxy,’ said Hijinks.

  The light points moved, concentrating in the form of one of the outer galactic arms. The lights were farther apart now, but there was a new light among them – a red dot, shimmering with iridescent red. It hung suspended between two points, right in the middle.

  ‘I think that’s the machine’s coordinates,’ said Alan, glued to the recording device. For a couple of seconds, the “stars” of the galactic arm shone with warm light, giving a delicate jingling sound, like glass bells. Then the lights went out, the sound stopped. The conduits were silent, their vibrations extinguished. The air felt cool and motionless now, with no sign that anything had been there, as though the structure had been abandoned long before Inan’s ancestors first stood on their hind legs and looked at the stars above them.

  ‘Show’s over,’ said Hijinks, pulling Inan’s sleeve.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ said Inan. Her mind was still reeling from the experience. The Hidden Dwellers, the lost civilisation, the machine that changes reality. What should she do?

  ‘I vote we get out of this hole for now. We can decide all we want when we are out,’ said Alan, setting the torch to a wide beam.

  ‘Climb first Inan, think later,’ urged Hijinks.

  *

  Ure waited for them topside. He sat silently while the events of their underground explorations replayed themselves on the recording device.

  ‘Remarkable,’ he said, when the recording stopped. His face rippled between wonder and surprise. ‘So the disc is nothing more than a cog? Just a part of a weapon?’

  ‘Not a weapon,’ said Hijinks.

  ‘I think that it was meant as a tool,’ said Inan. ‘A really powerful one.’

  Ure’s face stretched into his usual grin.

  ‘That is all I need to know right now,’ he said. ‘I suppose there is no need to hang about alien ruins anymore. I suggest we get back before it gets dark. We can discuss things at the base camp.’

  *

  Walking up the hill, Inan wrestled with her thoughts. Now that she knew what the black disc was, she could understand why someone like Cochrane would want it. And how dangerous it was for them to hold onto it. Alan and Hijinks knew there was a risk to their journey, that there was a dangerous fanatic after the disc. But what about Ure? They had lured him in with the promise of alien artefacts and new discoveries, telling him nothing of Cochrane the Moon Killer, his soldiers-turned-pirates, his private war against the galaxy.

  They arrived back at the main camp just as the sun began to set. The makeshift settlement greeted them with the echoing silence of the uninhabited buildings. They went into the common area; the tables were empty and the chairs neatly pushed in, as if they had never been used. Inan disrupted the unnerving order and pulled the chairs out so they could sit down.

  ‘Now,’ said Ure. ‘Let’s talk.’

  ‘Before you say anything, I wanted to apologise,’ said Inan, folding her hands into the appropriate gesture.

  ‘Oh? And why is that?’ he said, half-grinning as though he had just heard a joke only he comprehended. He remained standing, while Alan and Hijinks took their places next to Inan.

  ‘I guess this place holds nothing that you could sell,’ said Inan. ‘There is no way we could pay your price now.’

  ‘Funny thing that you mention that,’ said Ure. ‘I have an idea how to fix it.’ The liquid metal of his hand receded, uncovering a compact microwave emitter. ‘I’ll take the recording and the disc, thank you very much.’

  ‘What—’ Inan managed to squeeze from her throat, constricted with terrible surprise. She couldn’t have been more shocked if Ure had grown venomous mandibles like those of a carnivorous arachnid.

  ‘I’m not particularly interested in politics. I don’t care about Cochrane and his “humans had been wronged” ideas. I go where the money is. And this time the money is with Cochrane. I love knowledge, but I love the good life more. Now please get up, put the recording device and the disc down and take three paces back.’

  Under the darkness of the barrel of the plasma emitter, Inan stood up, put the disc down on the floor and watched Alan doing the same with the recording device. Ure collected them when they moved away the requested distance, keeping the plasma emitter and his eyes fixed on the trio.

  ‘I knew it!’ erupted Alan. ‘I knew you couldn’t be trusted. You—’

  ‘Nothing personal, boy. And now if I can ask you to kindly relinquish your pass keys for the ship too, please.’

  Out of the corner of her eye Inan could see Alan tensing his muscles.

  ‘I would prefer you didn’t do anything silly,’ said Ure, noticing the same thing.

  He extended his arm and urged them to throw their pass keys at his feet. Alan threw his after a second of hesitation, as did Hijinks. Inan held hers a little bit longer, clenching her talons around it until it snapped in two. She threw them away like the shell of a rotten nut.

  ‘I suppose that will do,’ said Ure, picking up the remaining keys without letting them out of his gun’s sights. ‘Now I must leave you, but rest assured I will feel dreadful about it tomorrow.’ Without a word more, Ure stepped out of the door, which slid shut. Inan heard the magnetic lock engaging and they were left alone, trapped in the canteen like bugs in a specimen container.

  For a second they stood silently, as if they could not believe what had just transpired. And in the silence you could hear the ancient mesa beneath the building, crumbling away with the ages. Then the silence was no more. Hijinks sprang into action, tearing the lock’s housing, revealing the circuitry inside. She pulled the wires inside – sparks flew and the curses too. The door moved an inch. Its servomotor whined pitifully and died. Alan braced himself on the frame and pushed the door. The door wouldn’t budge. The crack between the door and the frame refused to widen.

  Inan tore through the chairs, cupboards and utensils, hoping to find something to force the door open. Finding nothing of use, she threw a chair at the wall. She pulled a long pipe out of the remains and jammed it into the crack.

  ‘Push!’ cried Inan.

  The three of them threw their weight on the improvised lever. The door moaned.

  ‘Again!’

  They put all they had into the strain. The crack widened slightly.

  ‘Again!’ howled Inan and finally! Finally, she heard the door giving way. They were free. They ran as fast as they could towards the landing. When they got there, Yi-yik-ke’s airlock was already closed, and the dust was blasting from underneath it, roused by the starting engines.

  Inan wanted to rush forward, to pull at the hatch and grapple with the override controls. She banged at the door with no other idea but to get inside and wrestle Yi-yik-ke from Ure’s hands. But it was too late now. Ure had already initiated the emergency lift-off procedures. Hijin
ks pulled Inan away. A few seconds more and there would be nothing left of Inan but crisp remains, burned to a piece of charcoal by the blast of the engines.

  The abrupt start caused a small sandstorm on the rocky mesa. Sand and small stones rained from the sky, mixed with thundering roar of the craft breaking the sonic barrier.

  When Inan had cleared the grit from her eyes, the spaceship had already gone, leaving them all stranded on the lonely planetoid.

  *

  Instantly, Inan felt like the day she had been taken to the Ayr Temple complex and slipped away from the Mothers. Back then, she found herself standing in the middle of the Mosaic Dais, surrounded with the demise-chant markers of the Sages, dead and gone already by the time her House was founded. No breeze found this place, no insect fluttered above; no voice of a concerned Mother pierced the silence. She stood solitary among the stones, directionless and motionless, trying to spot the way back, but the markers had no end, covering the dais with their elongated shadows, as the sun was leaving the sky.

  Now the sun of this tiny planetoid was setting too and the dejected call of night-greeting creatures rose from the purple jungle below. The empty mesa reminded her of that ancient burial ground. The rocks stood strewn about, like nameless monuments forsaken even by the wind. And here and now they were as alone on the strange planetoid as the young hatchling among the dead. And this time it was also Inan’s fault. If only she hadn’t convinced the others to take Ure up on his offer, if she had gone back home, if she had never got the black disc, if… If only she had listened to Alan’s and Hijinks’ suspicions, or paid more attention to what Yarg had said – questionable ethics. It meant a thief, a con person, a liar.

  ‘Why didn’t you stop him?’ she heard Alan saying.

  ‘What?’ Inan turned around to face him. Alan’s face looked strange to her. It was dusty from the sand the ship’s thrust had sent billowing into the air, but also changed somehow by emotion she couldn’t read just yet.

  ‘Why didn’t you say something to him?’ said Alan, spitting words as though they were pebbles. The question took Inan by surprise. What could she say to a man who schemed, conned and stole for a living and played them like longstrings before a ceremonial assembly?