by A. A. Ripley
‘There is atmosphere,’ said Hijinks, after glancing at the readouts on the console. ‘Breathable one. No toxic components or known pathogens.’
‘We can just go out like that?’ asked Inan, happy she wouldn’t have to find a fitting spacesuit.
‘How’s gravity?’ asked Alan.
‘Won’t feel a difference,’ said Hijinks.
Now there was no more reason to delay their meeting with the unknown place, older than any of their species, and they would face it with their bodies unshielded and standing tall on their feet.
*
The air outside had no odour, as if it was streamed through the most efficient air filter in existence. It was cool, but not cold, and Inan could feel weak air currents brushing against her face.
They left the ship and soon they were standing on the walkway, that braced itself against a wall. At the sides and in front it was suspended over and surrounded by a seemingly endless chasm. Inan looked over the ledge and peered deep into the abyss. The space below them was bottomless and dark, but it wasn’t empty. Deep within the bowels of the station there were strangely-shaped mechanisms; plates of viciously sharp cogs were locked in eternal embrace with conduits and pipes, overgrown with a net of cables that were themselves entangled into net-like webbing. The clusters of mechanical parts went on and on until the darkness swallowed them. The cluster of machines was dormant but not unmoving, for there was a sound of quiet, but incessant, movement; clicks and thumps and occasional gusts of a warmer air current.
‘Sleeping machine,’ said Hijinks, and for some reason these words filled Inan with unease.
At first, there was no visible path off the walkway, but then it extended and started sprouting slates that fell into place with a dull thud, as if the construction itself reacted to their presence. Now extended, the arched walkway led forward.
‘Do you think it’s safe?’ asked Inan. What a question! Inan shook her head over her ridiculous query. A walkway to an unknown part of an alien station, suspended over machinery of unknown purpose. Of course it wasn’t safe!
‘I’m guessing we won’t know until we try it,’ said Alan.
Inan took the first step on the walkway, steadying herself with one hand against the wall. The first slate dipped a little under her weight, but seemed to hold fast and Inan decided to take another step. Surprisingly, the next slate held firm, as though the walkway adjusted itself to her weight.
On the other side of the chasm there was a long gallery. It was less illuminated, causing deep shadows to pool alongside cubic, studded shapes that were stacked against the walls and piled close to the edge. Halfway up the wall was a shallow shelf, running alongside the gallery. Small bright objects were placed upon it at regular intervals, like piles of shining stones held together by an unknown force. Inan had no idea what they could be. In fact, she had no idea of the purpose of any of the objects around her. This place was so alien, so unlike anything she had seen thus far, she could only be sure that the floor under her feet was really a floor. Everything else could be a dangerous machine, a harmless cargo container or part of an automated defence system, and Inan had no way of telling them apart.
She tried to keep her hands close to her body so as not to touch anything by accident. She even picked up her tail, so it wouldn’t catch on anything. Tail in hand already, she thought to herself. For the first time in her life she wished she was a tailless person, like Hijinks and Alan.
They moved alongside the gallery, keeping the chasm on one side, until they came across another slated walkway over it. It looked almost identical to the one they had used to get across and for a moment Inan thought they were walking in circles.
‘Here again?’ asked Hijinks, mirroring Inan’s thoughts.
‘No, our walkway didn’t have this pile of those square spikey things,’ said Alan, pointing to a group of shapes.
‘The runt is right, you know,’ said a cold voice from the shadows. ‘This is our entry point.’
A high-pitched whine of energy guns, charged to full, cut through the air. Inan could almost feel the barrels pointed at them, like tiny pinpricks of static electricity on her skin.
Flanked by two of his pirates, Cochrane stepped from behind a stack of cubic shapes. From the corner of her eye, Inan saw more pirates appearing from the side, led by Lisbeth. Suddenly there was nowhere to go but to jump into the gaping chasm.
One order from the pirate captain and they were immobilised, restrained by many hands like insects caught unawares in the mandibles of a predator. He ordered them searched and found their comm-pads and the frame holding the last pictures of the lost expedition. Cochrane looked at the confiscated items briefly, and without a second glance he tossed them into the chasm. The last trace of the people removed from existence by the Hidden Dwellers was now resting at the bottom of the alien construction, if it had a bottom at all. Gone, as the people it commemorated.
Cochrane barely paid any attention to them. He just spoke a few words to Lisbeth. Inan could now read human expressions well enough to understand that whatever he said did not go down well with the female pirate. She spoke back.
Inan kept looking back and forth between Lisbeth and Cochrane. She couldn’t understand a word they were saying, but there was something in the way Lisbeth stood, like a watchnewt guarding its nest. Inan thought that it was vital she paid attention. Cochrane would answer Lisbeth’s torrent of words with short barks. Finally, he uttered something that sounded abrupt, like an electrical crack. Lisbeth’s face changed colour; it darkened and she backed away.
Inan heard Alan let go of the breath he had held throughout the whole exchange.
‘What was that about?’ whispered Inan.
‘Looks like they aren’t going to kill us. Not yet anyway.’
‘Silence!’ said Cochrane. He barely granted them a look, too busy studying something on his personal device. ‘You have already lost. Neither you nor your masters are any threat to the triumph of humanity now. I will keep you with me for now, so you will have no chance for a last desperate attempt to interrupt what is inevitable. One way or another it was meant to be.’
‘But,’ he continued, ‘now that you have made it this far, I want you to witness it. As all the alien races will witness the restoration of the natural order of things.’
He turned away from them, as if he had lost interest completely in the aliens he had thought of as a threat just minutes before. He called out to his crew as he started walking.
The human behind Inan pushed her forward. She stumbled and barely kept her balance as the party moved ahead. Cochrane was leading, the pirates surrounding Inan; Alan and Hijinks followed him closely, wary of any unexpected encounter in this dark, strange place.
The corridors of this ancient station were gloomy but not dark. A bright stripe of bluish light ran on both sides, illuminating the path. The walls climbed up high, so high Inan couldn’t see the ceiling. The floor felt spongy under her feet and the footsteps fell muffled. This place smelled chilly, like an engine that had cooled down after centuries of heavy use. Sometimes it seemed to Inan that they were clearly walking up, but then suddenly there would be a turn and now the corridor floor started to fall a few degrees with each step. It felt disorienting, and Inan had no way of knowing if they were moving towards the centre of the station or maybe away from it. But Cochrane was unwavering, walking briskly and with purpose, as if he was guided by a voice only he could hear.
Their march ended abruptly as the corridor spilled into a shallow chamber barricaded in the middle by two great half-circles, interlocking in the middle like a pair of closed insect wings, barring the way through it. Through the whole width of the “wings” ran a horizontal bar that had a deep groove splitting it in half. The bar was so high up Inan would have trouble to reach it.
Inan watched as Cochrane pulled something out of a satchel on his belt and lifted it abo
ve his head. It was as if a piece of the universe had been cut out, leaving a dark hole in its place. The black disc!
He reached out towards the bar and waved the disc in front of the groove. Nothing happened. He repeated his action, this time holding the disc even closer to the groove. There was no reaction. He tried again, his moves hasty and impatient, but the result was still the same. Cochrane’s posture tensed.
‘It’s fake…’ he muttered to himself.
He spun around to face Inan.
‘You!’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘You did it, didn’t you? You fooled Ure Ambrus and hid the real thing! Where is it? Where did you hide it?’
Inan said nothing. Would it even help if she denied it? He pulled Inan from the hands of his underlings and grabbed her by her clothes. With surprising strength he lifted her off the ground and shook her.
‘Who did you give it to? Did you give it to your masters?’
For the longest while Inan looked straight into his face, unable to think, unable to breathe. His eyes were full of cold fury, his avian features twisted and his bristle head-fur ruffled.
He tossed her to the ground as if she was a scrap of fabric. She fell backwards, barely managing not to hit her head on the floor. Still prone, she watched as he reached for his sidearm. With one unbroken movement, he pulled it out and pointed it at Inan’s head.
The world went away. Somewhere, at the far reaches of the galaxy, Alan was struggling in the hands of the pirates, howling something in the human language. Equally distant, many light years away, Hijinks’ shrieks of distress shattered the air. But in Inan’s head there was silence. Only one thought was floating in the vast nothingness – I am going to die now. Inan heard a low buzzing noise, like the hum of an electric current. She had no time to wonder what it was, before a golden ribbon shot out of the groove in the doors, hit Cochrane in the back and gently floated down to the floor. He spun around and looked at it, unsure of its meaning. He seemed as surprised as Inan at its appearance.
The buzzing stopped, but another sound hovered in the air; the clicks and groans of moving machinery!
The bar receded from across the wing-like half-circles. They folded back, revealing a wide passage. Warm light started to pool inside it, illuminating the chamber beyond.
It was a hall so huge it had no visible walls or ceiling. There was a wide aisle leading towards the centre. Both sides were guarded with glossy, crystal, octagonal pillars spaced generously. They rose high above Inan’s head like thick tree trunks, ending with a crown of fanned rods that crackled from time to time with pale, electric sparks.
They proceeded forward, but had not gone far before something emerged from behind one of the pillars. The pirates reached for their guns.
‘Hold your fire!’ called Cochrane.
The creature spotted them and started to advance, and stopped when it was just a few paces ahead.
It was a small quadruped; two larger legs to its sides were equipped with domed feet like suction cups. Two smaller, thinner limbs were attached to the front of a bulbous body. It had no visible head, just a couple of dull protrusions attached to the otherwise smooth, shiny surface. It cantered forward and stopped a few paces before them. The protrusions started to turn, producing a melody of hollow clicks, pops and cracks.
Two streams of light unfolded from both sides of the strange creature, like wings inscribed with hypnotic patterns. They fluttered and stood still, projecting the multi-coloured stripes that twisted incessantly around them. The creature stood still, indifferent to the weapons pointed at it. Waiting.
‘Maintain your positions,’ ordered Cochrane. He approached the strange being and reached out towards its holographic “wings”. The light filtered through his fingers, the colours cycling slowly. He moved his hand and the light responded to his movement.
Inan couldn’t tell what he was doing, or how he knew what to do. He worked steadily, like a player pulling the strings of his instrument. She watched, fascinated, as the colours stopped shimmering, one by one, and when they were still the “wing” folded back inside the quadruped creature. Cochrane touched the second light stream and started to manipulate the colours within it. But this time it wouldn’t fold. He tried again.
A flash flared, drowning the world in thorny, white light.
For a few heartbeats, Inan was blind, seeing only the overwhelming whiteness. Then uncertain, spindly shapes started to move within it. The first energy shot cracked past her face. The human that held her tightly then loosened his grip before falling down without a word.
‘Take cover!’ yelled Cochrane through the thinning whiteness.
Inan obeyed without a thought and ducked behind the nearest pillar.
Now she could see the gangly, mechanical creatures hovering above their heads. Their multiple arms were brandishing energy weapons. The air shimmered with discharges like rays of a deadly star – silent but lethal. Wherever the rays touched, they left scorch marks, trails of molten material and an acrid smell of melted plastics.
Inan dived for the floor and crawled behind the nearest pillar. She could hear the return fire of the pirate crew, their discharging guns howling. For a second, she sat as if glued to the pillar, unable to move. The mechanical sentinels advanced. Inan could see them pushing forward, their arms flashing blinding streams of rays, the air shimmering with the heat.
Slowly, very slowly, so they wouldn’t notice, she crawled backwards. Then she ran, towards the sounds of battle; her enemies suddenly became a better alternative than being burned.
She turned around another pillar, finding nobody, the echoes of the cannonade and shouted orders now coming from her left and ahead. She passed a few more pillars, now sure she’d rejoin the group. But she was wrong. She kept running. The pillars pushed around her like trees in an entangled forest. The sounds of battle chased her; the shots and shouts reverberated from the crystalline surfaces and came back hideously distorted. She kept looking behind her, thinking that at any moment the mechanical creatures would burn a hole in her back. In the meantime the path between the spires diminished and darkened. With every step there was less space between the spires and less light. Finally, there was just enough space for Inan to squeeze through. Inan stopped, realising that she was not being pursued; the sentinels hadn’t followed her trail. She stopped and leaned over a pillar, trying to catch her breath, and her thoughts that scattered like a disturbed nest of woodvine hoppers.
Hijinks and Alan! was the first thought that came back to her. She must find her way back to them. Maybe they had been able to escape just like she had.
But when she looked around, she realised that she couldn’t tell where she had come from. The narrow passages between the pillars all looked the same. She had to face another thought. The one that told her that she was completely lost in the bowels of this ancient, abandoned alien place.
She chose a direction at random and started walking. She thought that she could find her way back, the pillars would start to spread again and the path would become clear as she went along. But it wasn’t so. It got even gloomier and narrower. The glassy bodies of the pillars started to come closer and closer, as though they wanted to smother her with their cool presence.
She turned around, trying to pick another route, hoping that this time she was right and she could find the way towards the main passage again. To no avail.
Each passage looked the same to her, a thin ribbon of the floor squeezed between the pillars. Cool as murky water, darker and darker with every step, with no heat signatures, it was splitting into exact copies at every intersection. There was no more crackling of electrical discharges above her head; the silence was interrupted only by her heartbeat, her footsteps muffled by the floor. Even her thoughts grew dim, her will sustained just enough to put one foot before the other. She kept walking.
*
Something changed. Inan was unsure at fi
rst what it was, but then she realised. Light! There was a solitary point of light somewhere ahead of her. She redoubled her effort to move ahead and soon she found herself in a small oval chamber. The point of light turned out to be a small emergency lamp, one of those that had their own power source and could stay lit up for many years.
Inan looked around. The lamp gave just enough light for Inan to orient herself around the room. Surprised, Inan realised that she was standing in the middle of makeshift living quarters. There was a pile of boxes on one side. The white letters took on a crimson shade in the red light of the lamp. “Nutrients” was written on them. Another pile was stacked under the opposite wall, next to a universal computer console. Inan tried to power it up, but it remained dead, its display dull. Inan turned around to search the rest of the chamber, but a singular sight stopped her in her tracks. At first, she thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her. It’s the shadows, they make me see something that isn’t there, she thought to herself. But the longer she stared the more apparent it became. There was a hand reaching from behind a long low container! It took Inan her whole supply of will to walk behind the container. She closed her eyes tightly and only opened them when she was sure she could bear to look at what was behind it.
A small, furry face was looking back at her, a ki-jirai. She pulled back, startled. But then she noticed the dull stare, the limp features, the absence of life in the rigid form. The ki-jirai was dead, had been for a long time, it seemed. The fur turned to wire, its colour, once vivid purple now drained to dusty lilac, though there was no decay. The corpse was holding something tightly in the other hand. It was shining dully in the dim light of the lamp – a comm-pad!
Inan reached out slowly, as if the dead ki-jirai would wake at any moment, and fished the device from the dry fingers. She touched the switch and the display came to life.
‘Greetings.’
Inan almost dropped the comm-pad. The whole display was taken over by a face. The same face that stared at her from the floor was talking to her from the device in her hands. It was as if the ki-jirai had suddenly come back to life, watching her with an intense gaze.