In Aldra’s case, the excessively long day made for some challenges. In those latitudes hit by direct sunlight, the planet heated up to an extraordinary degree during the day. At night, given such a long time to radiate the heat back into space, things became quite cold. Planetary engineers had, however, hit upon a solution which attenuated the highs and lows of temperature, though tropical Rendral was still given to hot days and cool nights.
One of the principle keys to regulating the Aldran climate, and to artificially making it more like Earth, involved water vapor and highly charged particles. This water vapor, produced by great oceanic humidifiers, held in heat, keeping temperatures from getting too low on the night side. Other factories spewed charged particles in imitation of the cosmic rays of supernovae which roamed the galaxy and occasionally pelted its planets. These artificial rays were seeds for low forming clouds, whose net effect was to cool the planet, thus keeping temperatures from getting too high on the day side. These interventions provoked other quandaries, side effects, which were dealt with by more interventions, and all of it required advanced machinery with parts manufactured in diverse systems. Every colonized world was kept habitable by an interconnected net of planetary maintenance, even Aldra, whose government had always made an exception for itself and imported key parts from other planets.
When the three travelers finally stepped off the train and exited the station, in the middle of the commotion of Aldra’s largest city, it was underneath a partly cloudy sky. Alistair was anxious to find the apartment where his sister lived, but Layla felt sorry for those cabdrivers who were hitched to a sort of wagon they pulled through the streets, and she insisted they give their patronage to one of these poor souls rather than to one who drove a regular taxi. Alistair consented, and they squeezed into a small wagon made for two. The lean cabbie was so thankful for the banknote placed in his hand, he never blanched at the weight of an extra body. In the end, due to stop lights and traffic jams, the pedestrian cabbie got them to their destination in about the same time as a motorized taxi.
After a short trip through some small streets and alleys, which took them to the center of a residential area a few blocks removed from major thoroughfares, they came to the building where, according to the directory, Katherine Ashley lived. One of the mail boxes at the front door bore her name and suffix code. There was an intercom so a visitor could announce himself and allow his host to press the buzzer and open the door for him, but the door was ajar already so Alistair did not bother calling. Inside, the building was in about the same shape as the exterior: worn by use, a little grungy between cleanings, but not in disrepair. It took them only a minute to take the elevator up three stories and seconds later they stood in the gloomy hallway, in front of Katherine’s door.
“I hope she’s home,” said Alistair and his knuckles rapped the door.
They heard footsteps, then the click of the lock and finally the door opened. Katherine stood on the other side and when she saw Alistair she started as if hit in the face. Tears welled up in her eyes. No greater look of astonishment ever wracked the features of a human being. With a gasp, she covered her mouth with both hands and for a moment was immobile, as if afraid to test her vision and discover she had been tricked. Then she was embracing her brother and sobbing, and he sobbed in his turn. Contagious, the tears welled up in Gregory and Layla’s eyes too.
The embrace in the hallway lasted for many minutes and was mixed with sobs and laughter. When Katherine, her cheeks soaked, finally pulled away, she saw Gregory and gave him a warm hug. Layla received a handshake and then a hug, beneficiary of a joyous moment. When this was accomplished, Katherine ushered them inside and closed the door.
They found themselves in a comfortable living room with a 3D display. On the opposite side there were sliding glass doors leading to a small balcony. Sunlight streamed through these partially opened doors, allowing a breeze to sweep in and rustle the translucent white curtains. At the back left corner, the rectangular shape of the living room was marred by the imposition of another room overlapping there: a dining room whose table held the remnants of Katherine’s unfinished meal. This they observed in a moment, and as soon as the door was closed she was urging them to sit down as she rushed to the kitchen to prepare them drinks.
“How did you do it?” she asked when finally they each had a glass in hand and she was sitting next to her brother on the couch, turned slightly to face him.
“I looked you up on the Comlat.”
“No, how did you get off Srillium?”
Her three visitors shared looks as of someone who has just been overwhelmed.
“That’s a long tale to tell,” Alistair answered.
“After we’ve slept some,” said Gregory with a tired smile.
“Of course,” she said with an apologetic tone. “We have a guest room… Alistair you can use my bed. Eddy won’t be home until—” Katherine stopped short and looked at her brother. “Eddy’s back,” she said, her expression somehow agonized and radiant at the same time. “But you know that. He told me he saw you.”
“Right before I was arrested.”
A shadow passed over her radiance and, clasping her hands until the knuckles turned white, she swallowed once and looked her brother in the eye.
“Mom and Dad passed away, Al.”
Katherine’s face seemed ready to break down in fresh grief for her brother, who she thought was just getting the news. Instead, he nodded somberly.
“I know.”
Katherine was perplexed but did not ask how he found out. “We lost contact with them. Gerald finally tracked them down. Apparently, they made it to Trenley but because of everything they couldn’t contact us. There was an influenza epidemic in Trenley and…”
She trailed off with a shrug of her shoulders. For his part, Alistair slowly nodded, fighting to compose his face so his perceptive sibling, always able to read him, would not detect anything amiss. Too engrossed in her own memories, she noticed nothing.
“Apparently they were cremated and… Trenley got leveled during the fighting.” A solitary tear poured over the rim of her right eye and made tracks down her cheek to her jaw. With a sniffle, she wiped the tear away and with it her gloom. “Your revolution was a success. Oliver…” Katherine paused to shake her head. “Oliver Keegan is the president. Can you believe it? I still…” Katherine could do no more than shake her head again. “Gerald works for Oliver now. He can take you to see him.” Alistair shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but his sister continued without pause. “If you go to see him, there’s, uh… If you could do me a favor.” She picked her glass up from the coffee table and took a sip of water. “I’ve been trying to get Oliver to fund a mission… this is classified information, by the way… Oliver thinks it’s not worth it right now with all the problems with the resistance.”
Katherine sat forward, bringing her face within a few inches of her brother’s, and leaned her elbows on her knees.
“We discovered something a few cycles ago, before the Realists fell. Alistair, we proved our theories about the Overlay. Do you remember…?”
He nodded.
“We proved its existence. But we discovered a signal someone was sending through the Overlay. We eventually traced it to its source…” She turned a significant gaze on her guests, as if preparing them for the awesomeness of what she was about to reveal. “Whatever was sending the signal was about fifty thousand light years away.”
Her guests hung on her words, leaning forward as she did, enraptured.
“No human vessel has ever gone that far,” she reminded them.
“The Galactic Survey Fleet—” Gregory began.
“None of the vessels that returned made it farther than forty thousand light years. And none of them were capable of sending signals through the Overlay. Christ, it was an automated fleet; the Overlay hadn’t even been conceived of back then. Whatever sent the signal was fifty thousand light years away when we finally traced it… at least for a w
hile.”
Her guests leaned farther forward, snagged by another hook.
“The source came closer, moving faster than any known vessel.”
“So it wasn’t coming from a planet?” asked Alistair.
Katherine shrugged. “Within one cycle it was only twenty light years away.”
“Fifty thousand light years in less than a cycle!?” said Gregory amid the general exclamations.
“Whatever it is, it took a position four cycles ago and, as far as we know, hasn’t moved since. We won’t even be able to detect it by conventional means for another sixteen years. It still sends us signals through the Overlay, and we responded to it for a while with no result.”
“Soooo…?” prompted Alistair, unable to get a sentence out.
Katherine shrugged again. “The Revolution interrupted things. Oliver took over the Overlay program to use in the war effort. Every once in a while he gives me a little time with the equipment. Three weeks ago, the signal sender was still twenty light years away. That’s all I can say. Oliver doesn’t want to send a mission out there.”
“We’ve got a small ship,” said Gregory with a look to Alistair. “It got us here from Srillium.”
Katherine looked hopeful.
“We could get to this signal sender in eighty Earth days.”
Katherine did a quick calculation in her head. “About… thirty Aldran days or so. It’s a really small ship, then?”
“Pretty small,” said Alistair.
She frowned, her hope extinguished as soon as it was lit. “It would hardly be worth it without equipment.”
“And dangerous too,” added Layla.
At that moment, they were interrupted by a knock on Katherine’s door. When she opened it, Alistair spied his brother on the other side. Gerald’s pleasant greeting for his sister was interrupted by her demeanor. A moment later he looked over her shoulder and spotted Alistair. Astonishment swept over his face, and he shuffled past Katherine into the apartment, dropping the plastic sack he was carrying.
Alistair stood and uncertainly looked at his brother. Gerald’s face was older, developing wrinkles. A handful of gray hairs were scattered around his scalp and his hairline was thinning out, preparing to recede. From twenty feet he looked the same as the day he rescued Alistair from execution, but from three, the tracks of five cycles were evident.
The repatriated exile dropped his guard, his careful reserve shielding emotional vulnerability, and rushed to embrace the brother to whom he owed his life. However, Gerald’s astonishment never evolved into a merry greeting. Instead, he continued to stare at his brother past the point when it felt awkward for the others.
Finally, disentangling himself, Gerald nodded, held out a hand and said, “What a surprise. Welcome back.”
Alistair, dismayed, managed to shake his brother’s hand. Katherine, not comprehending Gerald’s reaction, moved towards the kitchen after picking up the sack Gerald dropped.
“I’ll get you a drink,” she said, dropping the groceries on the kitchen counter and opening up the cupboard.
Looking uncomfortable for a moment, Gerald finally found an unoccupied chair and sat in it, and Alistair sat down as well.
“Good to see you, Gregory.”
Gregory, from his seat, shook Gerald’s hand.
“I understand I owe you a lot. This is my partner, Layla.”
Gerald stood to shake her hand and Layla gave him a charming smile.
“A pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“You’re… not from Aldra?” he asked when he heard her speech.
“She was with us on Srillium,” Alistair explained.
“Oh,” said Gerald, and his demeanor became chilly as he regarded the former convict. He sat back down in his chair as Katherine brought him his drink.
“You have a niece and a nephew,” announced Katherine as she patted Gerald on the shoulder and sat down next to Alistair. “Kyle and Kelly.”
“I’ll introduce you to my wife sometime,” said Gerald, his tone tepid, nothing more than polite.
Alistair nodded, unable to express the joy he would have preferred and uncertain how to take his brother’s behavior. When their drinks were finished, Katherine showed Gregory and Layla to the guest room. Layla declared she was going to sleep for a week, and as they disappeared down the hallway, the last thing Alistair heard was Gregory gently suggesting she take only a nap and try to get her body used to the Aldran schedule. Alistair found himself with his brother on the balcony, the sun still brightly shining overhead and the gentle murmurs of an unperturbed city below. The third floor balcony was halfway up their building, and an eight story building was just across the way, close enough that Alistair thought he might almost have jumped from one balcony to another. They leaned on the railing, their drinks refilled, making a pretense of ease and comfort while they tried to think of something to say.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” Gerald finally managed, staring at the brick wall on the other side of the alley.
“I owe you a hell of a lot.”
“Yeah,” said Gerald, and a moment of silence passed. “Mom and Dad died,” he said with a sniff and took a sip from his glass. “Got the flu. They were down in Trenley—”
“Do you know how they really died?”
Gerald was startled, but recovering quickly, his face became hard and he stared into his brother’s eyes. With savage intensity, he snarled, “Yes!”
With that response, with the granite hardness of it incompletely masking the heat underneath, Alistair suddenly understood his brother’s deportment. He considered making a plea to Gerald, to explain things, but discarded the idea. Instead, taking another sip from his drink, he turned from his brother and stared at the brick wall several feet away. Gerald took up the same posture.
“I’d like to see Oliver, if you can arrange it.”
“The last time I took you into a government building you killed his predecessor.”
“Oliver killed his predecessor.”
Gerald took another sip. “I can probably take you tomorrow,” he said and then left Alistair on the balcony.
Chapter 88
The Civil Palace at the Birth Crater’s western wall was a city unto itself, the result of thousands of years of human engineers being instructed to outdo what had been done before, upping the ante with every new capitol building. It recorded the threshold of grandiose and imposing as it was understood three centuries ago. Occupying the equivalent of several city blocks, and wider than it was tall, its exterior was a composite of pillars and façades, spotlights and landing pads, terraces and balconies, domes and stain glass windows. On the top was projected the 3D image of the Aldran flag, larger than any flag ever made, waving in an imaginary breeze.
Upon arriving at the Civil Palace, after nearly an hour’s jaunt on Rendral’s crowded public transportation, Gerald took Alistair to the Palace’s own internal Metro system. A brief ride on this, followed by a short walk, a trip up an elevator and another walk down a long, narrow cylindrical tube – all made possible by Gerald’s identity badge – brought them to a less trafficked section. There, the almost manic ruckus of busy bureaucrats was absent, replaced by the hollow quiet of marble, which gave the sparse footsteps and whispers an indistinct echo.
They reached a section of suites and approached the secretary working at the entrance. Gerald showed her his badge and, while Alistair exchanged hard glances with the two armed Guardsmen on either side of the hallway, explained his purpose to her. She nodded and indicated he and his brother should take their seats in the waiting area.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Alistair finally asked, “Do you have a picture of Kyle and Kelly?”
With the look of a man who has been approached for spare change, Gerald reached into his back pocket, took out a wallet, and from it produced a series of 3D photographs he handed to Alistair.
Eyeing the pictures with a wistful smile, Alistair asked, “Do they know about me
?”
Gerald seemed irritated at the question. He took the photos out of Alistair’s grasp and put them back in his wallet. “They’re still young.”
The sound of footsteps on the marble floor, wrapped in their own echoes, preceded the appearance of a man impeccably dressed in dark blue with red trim and sash. Stiff and formal, he walked up to Gerald and bowed his head, displaying his nearly bald pate. This induced Gerald, and then Alistair, to rise from their seats, whereupon the man executed a turn on his heel and, never saying a word, led them deeper into the section of suites. Coming to a door at the back, he opened it and stepped aside.
The capacious room on the other side had a large, ovular table with as many as thirty seats spaced around it. Beyond the table was a stone floor with a relief map of Aldra carved into it. The ceiling was ornate and thirty feet over their heads, with recessed lighting. The back wall was one gigantic window, floor to ceiling, with a view of the crater wall not two hundred feet away. That particular section of wall was full of the carven busts of former presidents, prime ministers, dignitaries and other historical figures. At that moment a team of workers, standing on hovering platforms, were busy with a new bust, still in its embryonic stages and as of yet unrecognizable.
When Gerald and Alistair entered, their guide closed the door and a bulky figure staring out the back window, hands clasped behind his back, turned to greet them with a smile.
“Alistair Ashley,” said Oliver Keegan, raising his voice a little to be heard over the distance. “Welcome back.”
His voice was as warm and friendly as a host greeting an unknown guest, and with the same reserve. With the large and bold steps of a man in his element, he strode across the room. Alistair, less confident, shuffled to meet him partway. Oliver held out both hands; one of these he used to shake Alistair’s hand, the other was for a healthy slap on the shoulder. After a moment to smile at his old friend, Oliver turned to Gerald and gave him a more subdued greeting.
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