Firmament: In His Image

by J. Grace Pennington

  “Just how do you think this is going to help us, Mr. Whales?” the Captain interrupted. Always eminently practical, he preferred hard facts that he could work with instead of abstract theories.

  “Well sir, I think that it’s possible that if we can get through the atmosphere, once we’re in space the decreased neutrino emission will keep the fission from overreacting.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?” Crash knitted his brows, his fists planted firmly on his hips.

  “If we could generate a warp bubble just long enough to get back into space again, it might keep the atmospheric particles from reaching us. Once out of the way of the pion collisions, we would probably be safe. And even if the reactor burned out again, we could remain in a stabilized orbit long enough for the ship to get to us.”

  The Captain clasped his hands together behind his back and stared at the scientist. “You’re sure of this Mr. Whales?”

  “I’m sure it’s the only idea I have.”

  “What difference does it make if he’s sure of it?” Crash interjected. “We don’t have the capability to generate a warp bubble for any amount of time. There’s no warp drive on board the shuttle.”

  “We might be able to build a weak one. There’s all kinds of old equipment in the storage chambers, right, Andi?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Captain. All kinds.”

  “Tomorrow, Whales, you’ll go out there and help Ralston with that.”

  “Just a second, Trent.” Crash moved a few steps closer to the Captain. “Let’s say it was neutrinos that caused the hole. Let’s say that we can get together some makeshift warp drive. You’re going to risk all our lives on a theory? If the bubble disintegrates, or if the particles aren’t kept out by it, we’ll be thrown back to the ground, this time without much chance of a soft landing.”

  “It’s better than risking our lives here at the mercy of that Basilius,” the Captain insisted sternly, “and I think it sounds plausible.”

  “You think! Thinking isn’t enough where the lives of seven people are concerned.”

  “Crash,” the Doctor began, but Crash whirled on him.

  “Leave me alone, Uncle.”

  “You were the one that was so eager to leave,” the Captain said, clearly struggling to keep his temper. “Why do you—“

  “It’s not about me. It’s Andi, and Uncle, Lieutenant Howitz, and the others.”

  “A captain has to make decisions based on his own judgments; you know that as well as I do. The Captain barely kept his tone under control. “Their lives are my responsibility, not yours.”

  “And you’re prepared to take the responsibility of killing six other people?” He spoke recklessly, his voice taking on a shrillness I’d never heard from him before. The Doctor stepped forward, a frown on his face, but before he could say anything, the Captain spoke again.

  “That will be enough out of you, Mr. Crash!” He exploded. “You’d be the first to risk everything if you were in my place. This isn’t about risks, and you know it. This is about your personal theories crumbling out from under your feet and leaving you with nothing to hold onto. Even you wouldn’t have accused me of murder before we came here. Look what you’ve done to this boy, Gerry,” he said to the Doctor, “given him too many structures and not enough foundation. Mr. Crash, your stubborn beliefs became your own personal gods, and now that they’ve abandoned you—”

  The Doctor stepped between the two men and crossed his arms decisively over his chest. Looking from one to the other he spoke nearly as hotly but somehow more steadily. “I want you two to listen and listen hard. Crash, your disrespect of your authority is totally out of bounds, and—no, be quiet and listen to me,” he ordered as Crash opened his mouth to protest. “A lot of what he says is true. But Trent, you can’t get yourself caught up in these things. You’re responsible for getting us safely out of this, not for correcting his philosophy. I want both of you to stop acting like children and pay attention to your duty. Trent, you have to do what is necessary to keep us safe. Crash,” here he turned towards his nephew and held him, firmly but gently, by the shoulders, “no one is more argumentative than me. But it’s not the time. Like it or not, you’re under his command, and you have to obey.”

  Emphasizing his words with a serious nod, he released Crash, who stood as if trying to process the straightforward words. The Captain took a deep breath and blew it out before giving his friend a slight smile. “Sorry, Gerry. I suppose I did get a little carried away. It’s just that…” he glanced at Crash, and then left his thought unfinished. Dismissing the incident, he turned to Mr. Whales. “We’ll need an Alcubierre core…”

  I had stood on the sidelines for the entire incident, and now felt my shoulders relax from the tension the argument had created. I watched as Crash made his way silently to one corner of the tent and sat there alone.

  ………

  I woke up in the most silent part of the night feeling like something had awakened me. Raising my head to look around, I noticed only three forms lying on the other side of the tent. The other coarse bedroll was empty, and the tent flap was half open.

  Getting up and slipping into my jacket, I crept out into the chilly night air. Who had left the tent? My heart knew the answer, but I wanted to find out for sure.

  It was so quiet. I could almost hear my heart beating in the stillness. Looking up I saw the round full moon framed in the darkness of the night sky, and I let its peacefulness sink into me.

  Then I heard something—like a slight choking sound, from somewhere on my left. Turning, I was not surprised to see Crash sitting in the dark sand, knees pulled up to his chest, head bent down in his hands. His shoulders, outlined by the moonlight, shook in a way I’d never seen before.

  “Crash?” I said softly, treading lightly on the sandy ground, making my way hesitantly towards him. He didn’t give any indication that he’d heard me, but the shaking stopped.

  Settling down next to him I sat in silence, looking up at the stars. I sensed that it was better to say nothing than to ply him with questions. I just sat there, hoping that my presence beside him was enough to let him know that I cared.

  At last his voice broke the stillness. “You must think I’m a fool.”

  “No.” I laid a hand on his back comfortingly. “I just think you’re confused.”

  He lifted his head, but kept it turned it away from me. “You don’t understand. You’ve always had him to straighten you out. You’ve never had to fend for yourself when it comes to what to believe, or how to respond.”

  It was actually only weeks ago that I had needed to “fend for myself”, but I didn’t say that. “You have him too,” I began, but he shook his head, still looking away from me.

  “I’m a grown man, Andi. I shouldn’t be shaken like this. Why can’t I be sure like him, or at least ready to take what comes, like Guilders, or even Whales? And you.” He looked at me for the first time, and I saw with surprise a tell-tale trace of moisture on his cheeks. “Don’t think I didn’t see that you were shaken too. But you rallied… you didn’t—didn’t doubt. Why can’t I be like that?”

  I didn’t know the answer to his question. But I had one of my own, and I ventured to ask it. “What exactly do you doubt, Crash?”

  He shrugged. “What difference does it make? If one thing goes, it all starts to go. Is God good? Does He really have control over this part of the universe? And are we really all that special to Him? Did he really create—don’t kill me, I’m really just telling the truth, Andi.”

  My eyes must have shown some of the worry that I felt.

  “See what I mean? Uncle would kill me. I can’t say these things to him. I can’t admit to Trent that I’m shaken. So I’m alone.”

  “You have me.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to admit it to you either. I didn’t want you to look at me like that. But I can’t help it. I just don’t know anymore.”

  I was about to say something to comfort him, when
a soft footstep made me look up suddenly. I expected to see the Doctor coming out to see what was happening, but instead Elasson stood there, his tunic hanging loosely and his cap missing. He put a hand to his lips and beckoned to me.

  I stood up, but Crash gripped my hand. “Uncle would want me to come with you.”

  I nodded. Elasson began walking towards the back of the walls, his soft shoes making very little noise as he crept along. He led us on through the tents, and from there to the far corner of the walls. Kneeling about a meter from where the two walls met, he dug away the sand in front of him. I watched as he revealed a flat, round piece of wood, a little less than a meter in diameter, with a handle of sorts in the middle. Standing, he lifted it, revealing a sizeable hole going down in the darkness. I could just make out what appeared to be a ladder going down.

  Crash held me protectively by the shoulders, and we watched as Elasson reached down and pulled out a long, solid wooden torch. The top was wrapped firmly in a damp cloth, and he handed it to Crash, who took it in both hands. Then Elasson took two flint-like stones from some hidden pocket and skillfully made a spark just adjacent to the cloth. It lit up almost instantly, and he took it back, climbing into the hole without a word.

  I watched as he gripped the edge with one hand, his eyes asking us to follow him, as his hands could not.

  “Should we?” I asked quietly. Usually I would have been able to count on Crash as an ally for any adventure that we came across, but in his current emotional state, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t disappointed by his answer.

  “Are you kidding? We’re supposed to find out everything we can about them. Of course we should.”

  Elasson’s hands vanished into the pit, and the light grew dimmer. Advancing to the hole, I looked down. It was a long way, and I shivered. I could just make out Elasson’s hair, and his hands, which gripped the torch and ladder rungs as he moved down.

  “Here.” Grasping my hands, Crash helped me lower myself down. “Watch your step.”

  Carefully letting go of Crash and gripping the rungs, I made my way into the dark hole.

  XVIII

  Down, down, down I climbed, and was almost surprised when my foot met solid ground. Elasson grabbed my wrist to steady me as I faltered. I found myself standing in a dark hallway, a good three meters high, and too dark to see how long. I looked around as Crash descended the ladder after me, hopping off the second lowest rung and taking his place beside me.

  Elasson didn’t speak, but began leading the way through the tunnel. There were large indentations along either side, and a rock slab with a simple symbol, each slightly different but all featuring drawings of the sun, was settled on each.

  “Tombs of the royal family?” Crash guessed in a whisper as we passed them, and I thought he was probably right. Surely Elasson hadn’t taken us down here just to see where his forefathers were buried.

  I was somewhat awed, however, at the vast number of tombs—if that was indeed what they were. They showed that the Captain was right about one thing anyway—these people had been here for a very long time. I wondered what the significance of each symbol was. Clearly this culture had no written language. I had already known this somehow, but hadn’t brought the fact to the forefront of my mind until now.

  No sooner had I thought this than we came upon one of the markers that was inscribed with what certainly looked like a few Greek characters. After this the drawings ceased and the Greek writing appeared on the rest of the “tombstones.” I felt sure now that this was a tomb of some kind; whether just for the royal family or not, I wasn’t sure.

  “It’s interesting that they bury their dead,” I whispered to Crash. He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  On we went, and I found myself wondering how long it had taken to build this. Doubtless they had made it a little at a time, and I couldn’t imagine, with all the work they had to do, that they would do this for just anyone. Crash was probably right in his conjecture.

  Rather abruptly, Elasson turned to the left and started down a slightly smaller tunnel that was perpendicular to the one we were in now. The original tunnel went on for a ways before fading into darkness again, and I wondered how far it went.

  The new tunnel didn’t go very far. Instead, after several meters we came upon a crude stone pedestal, on top of which sat a simple wooden chest. Elasson glanced at us, as if looking for our reactions to this, and settled the brightly burning torch into a holder on the back wall of the little cove. Then he unfastened the cloth straps that tied the box shut, and opened it carefully—almost reverently.

  Crash and I didn’t move from where he’d left us, a meter away from the box, but we craned our necks to see what he was taking out of the chest, and why it was so highly valued. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I certainly hadn’t looked for the object that he brought into the firelight a moment later—a large, very yellow old scroll.

  It looked as though it were made of carefully processed parchment, and the stick around which it was rolled contrasted strongly with the severely plain box in which it was kept. There were ornate handles carved on either side, and the wood was solid and polished, and a dark mahogany color.

  I reached for the scroll, and Elasson handed it over carefully. “Proseche sphodra saute,” he cautioned.

  Crash held one side and I held the other, and together we slowly unrolled the parchment. “Greek?” he asked, studying the dark characters that covered it.

  “I think so. I recognize a couple of the letters.”

  His eyes darted over it. “Trent will want to know about this. He’ll want to translate it, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think we can take it out though.” I looked at Elasson, who stood poised as if to catch the scroll in case it fell from our hands. “It must have a lot of significance to them. How old would you say it is?”

  He delicately laid his finger on the dry, leathery substance. “Very. I’m a space pilot, not an archeologist; but I’d say it’s older than anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “We could bring the dictionary down and translate it that way.”

  “That would take days. This thing has to be close to five meters long.”

  I knew he was right. But we had to know what this said. It could tell us so much about these people; answer our questions about their origins and ancestry.

  Crash snapped his fingers. “What shuttle did we bring… the Apogee, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t Dr. Johansson recently bring it back from his sabbatical on the Zenith station? Isn’t that why the history book was there in the first place?”

  “Probably. I forgot about that.”

  “He was working on translations of different historical works, wasn’t he? It makes sense that he would have taken a language scanner with him too. He could have left it in the storage chamber, just as he left the book. If we could get our hands on it…” He handed his side of the scroll to me and was reaching for his communicator when I shook my head.

  “It’s the middle of the night. You’ll wake him up.”

  A look sprang into his eye that I hadn’t seen since we’d arrived. “Let’s go get it.”

  “Now?” I was dubious, but so relieved to see the old Crash back, even for a second, that I was almost ready to agree.

  “Why not? We won’t be in danger of hyperthermia that way…”

  “Maybe not, but we’ll be in danger of hypothermia. Crash, it’s got to be at least two degrees below zero right now.”

  “Alright, I’ll go.”

  I handed the scroll back to Elasson, who put it back in the box. “I can’t let you do that. It’s not safe.”

  “I’d like to see you stop me.”

  “I’ll go get the Doctor.”

  Crash smirked mischievously at me. “Oh yeah? Well you’re going to have to run pretty fast.” With that he turned and dashed out into the main tunnel. “See you later, cousin.”

  “Crash, wait!” But he was already out of sight in
the darkness.

  I saw light coming from behind me, and turned to see Elasson with the torch, looking quizzically after Crash. “All’ houtos poi poreuei?” he asked.

  I sighed. “Come on, Elasson. I need to get back to Doctor Lloyd.”

  He understood the words “Doctor Lloyd,” and slid past me with the light. “Eltho,” he said, and began leading me back the way we’d come.

  On we tramped, down the long, dark, rocky tunnel. I tried not to look at the tombs on either side as I passed them—I hadn’t minded them when I had Crash beside me, but now they made me nervous. I knew it was irrational, and I sternly told myself so, but that didn’t make the goose bumps go away.

  When I heard a squeak from my shoes against the floor, it startled me so much that I forced a burst of speed and ran past Elasson, wanting just to get out of there and back to the surface again.

  “Hekamen,” he called up to me. As he spoke, I saw the ladder ahead.

  Shouldn’t there be light coming from the opening above the ladder? Or had we been down there so long that the moon had started to set, and the wall was casting a shadow over the opening? Looking up, however, I saw that a round patch of stars was faintly visible. I looked back at Elasson, who nodded, and then I grasped the rungs and began climbing up.

  When my head finally emerged into the open air, I stood still for a second, looking around at the pale hint of light that blanketed the colony. All was still and quiet, and the only sound was the slight thump of Elasson’s shoes against the ladder rungs below me.

  Resolutely, I stepped up and pulled myself out. I saw Elasson set the torch back in its wooden holder just below the rim of the hole and blow the fire out with one long breath.

  By the time he had hurried up and closed the door, covering it once again with sand, the light had grown so that the last few stars were fading. I expected to hear the loud whistle any minute, and hastily helped Elasson smooth out the sand that hid the door.