Transport 3_The Zone

by Phillip P. Peterson

  Marlene and Chris had also turned up, but remained in the background. Marlene, especially, looked as if she hadn’t slept much the night before. Russell had tried to talk to her, but she’d locked herself in her room and ignored him.

  “Give Mr. Harris the microphone. It was his suggestion,” Morrow said to Dr. Hope. The latter shrugged and handed the microphone over.

  Russell leaned forward and took a deep breath. “Transporter! Can you hear me?”

  The control room was as silent as a grave. The other technicians, most of whom Russell hadn’t got to know, looked up from their computers and listened intently. He hardly dared to breathe and waited for a reaction. But the loudspeaker remained silent.

  “Transporter! Can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  “It’s not working,” Morrow said.

  “Hang on!” Mitchell said. He tapped around on his touchscreen. Curves and lines appeared on the screen. “The transporter is reacting. I have a signal in high ultrasound. I have to calibrate the computer. Incredible, it has a frequency of eight hundred kilohertz! That’s almost a hypersound. The vibrations must emanate from the wall of the transporter. With such high frequencies, the sound is almost completely muffled by the air. I have to compensate for it electronically. Give me a minute.”

  Russell slid back and forth on his chair. “I wonder if the alien builders communicated this way?”

  “Looks like it,” Mitchell said. “The range isn’t very big with such high frequencies.”

  “I’m ready,” Mitchell said. “Try again!”

  Russell’s mouth almost touched the microphone. “Transporter. Can you hear me?”

  The answer came immediately: “Yes, I can hear you.”

  The voice echoed coolly out of the loudspeaker. It was an androgynous voice, it could have been a woman’s or a man’s. And it was devoid of all emotion.

  Russell looked at Morrow. With a nod, the general prompted him to continue.

  “Can’t you speak to us in our frequency range?” Russell asked.

  “No. That option does not exist. Acoustic communication is of secondary importance.”

  “I think communication with the transporter occurs primarily via electromagnetic fields,” Dr. Hope confirmed. “This is only an emergency solution, like the control pillars inside the transporters. We should concentrate on the data interface again.”

  “Wait,” General Morrow interrupted sharply. “Continue, Mr. Harris. Ask the transporter about the death zone.”

  Russell cleared his throat and searched for the right words. “Are you aware that many transporters in the Milky Way are being destroyed?”

  “Yes, I am aware.”

  “Why is it happening? What is causing it to happen?”

  “I do not know.”

  “What can you tell us about it?”

  There was no response from the loudspeaker. Russell whistled slowly through his teeth. There was something very bizarre about this form of communication with the artificial intelligence. Although he could talk to him like a human now, Russell immediately sensed he wasn’t dealing with another living being. He would only get answers if he asked the right questions. Above all, it was important he used words they both understood.

  “We call the gradual destruction of the transporters the death zone.”

  The loudspeaker remained silent.

  “What is the death zone?” Russell asked.

  “The continued destruction of the transporter network in the galaxy.”

  Russell was pleased the transporter hadn’t used exactly the same words as he had. So the artificial intelligence was able to combine and learn.

  “When did the death zone begin?

  “Twenty-two days ago according to your calculation of time.”

  “Where did the death zone start?”

  He did not receive an answer.

  Mitchell was looking agitatedly at his monitor. “I’m getting a data signal! Never seen these data packages before. They’re appearing between the transporter status reports and the network traffic. Very high-density. Way it’s constructed, I would say it’s a multidimensional matrix. It looks like coordinates.”

  “Can you create a visualization?” Dr. Hope asked.

  “Hold on a sec.” Mitchell swiped his touchscreen frantically and finally flipped a switch on his console. The control room’s main screen went dark for a moment and then rapidly filled up with white dots against a black background.

  “I knew it!” Mitchell said triumphantly. “That’s our galaxy.”

  He was right. After a few seconds it was as if they were looking down onto the Milky Way from a great height.

  “It’s intact. That was before the death zone began to encroach. This is historical data!” Dr. Hope cried. “Up to now we’ve only been able to access the current status of the network. We’ve only been able to piece together the progress of the death zone from snapshots and prognoses.”

  “Well!” The general snorted. He stood up in front of the scientist. “I must say, I am extremely disappointed in you, Dr. Hope. Your task was to establish communication with the transporter and to acquire as much information as possible. And all you’ve been able to get out of the interface so far is status reports and uninteresting astronomic data. Even though you knew there must be other, far more suitable, forms of communication.”

  The physicist’s face turned red. “I couldn’t know that——”

  “Look!” Mitchell cried. “There——on the screen!”

  A dot on the left-hand edge of the galaxy was blinking a deep red.

  “That must be where the death zone started!” Russell cried.

  “Transporter! Can you provide us with data on the system?” Dr. Hope asked, leaning over the microphone.

  Immediately a cool voice reverberated around the control room. “A double star system. Two suns that orbit at a distance of a hundred-and-twenty AU. Sun A, spectral type K, has three planets. Sun B, spectral type M, two.”

  “On how many planets were there transporters?” Russell asked.

  “On all five.”

  “You said the suns have planets——in the present tense. Does that mean these planets still exist and weren’t destroyed by the death zone?”

  Russell felt a quiet surge of hope rise up inside him. Perhaps destruction of the planets wasn’t inevitable.

  “Since contact with the transporter was broken off there has been no more information. That is the most recent status.”

  Russell nodded, resigned. “So these planets have been destroyed?”

  “Presumably.”

  “Which was destroyed first?” General Morrow asked.

  “The third planet of Star A. Twenty-two days ago according to your calendar. The other transporters broke off contact within fifteen minutes.”

  “What were the environmental conditions of the first planet?” Mitchell asked.

  “Diameter of equator twelve-thousand kilometers. Average temperature 15 degrees. Atmosphere of oxygen and nitrogen; continental as well as oceanic lithosphere. Surface gravity, 0.96 G.”

  “Those are conditions like on Earth,” Dr. Hope said agitatedly. “Perhaps there was a civilization there, which played around with the transporter and triggered a chain reaction.”

  “Transporter! Was there intelligent life on the planet?” Morrow asked.

  “No, only single-cell organisms in the ocean.”

  Russell wasn’t surprised by the answer. Twenty years ago, when he had talked to the transporter in Nevada, he had discovered that there were no other intelligent civilizations in the entire galaxy apart from humans and the extinct creators of the spheres. But something about the conversation irritated him, and he couldn’t put his finger on what.

  “And the death zone spread out from this solar system?” he asked.

  “That is correct.”

  “Is there anything we can do to prevent it from spreading any further?”

  “I do not have information available to
answer that question.”

  “Can you explain how the death zone came about?”

  “I do not have information available to answer that question.”

  “We’re not getting anywhere,” Dr. Hope said. “We know as much as we did before.”

  Perhaps we’re still asking the wrong questions. Russell cleared his throat. “Could the death zone have been created due to a malfunction in the transporter network?”

  “I do not have information available to answer that question.”

  “So it is not some kind of self-destruction?” General Morrow asked.

  “No self-destruct mechanisms have been implemented into the network.”

  “Can a transporter be removed from the network so it is not affected by the death zone?”

  “Every transporter is an intrinsic part of the network and shares topological faces with neighboring transporters. Separating from the network is not envisaged and only possible through physical destruction.”

  “Damn it!” the general swore under his breath.

  “How can a transporter turn into a black hole?” Dr. Hope asked.

  “Inherent safety mechanisms prevent that.”

  “And if we assume an intelligent civilization found a way of circumventing these safety measures?” Russell asked.

  “Then an event horizon could be created by stimulating the wormhole mouth during the injection phase.”

  “What?” Russell asked.

  Dr. Hope explained: “The transporter is connected to its neighboring transporters through tiny wormholes. I think with ‘injection’ it means enlarging a wormhole to enable transport from one sphere to another. It seems the process can be manipulated.”

  “So we can assume a hostile intelligence triggered this process,” Morrow said.

  Russell shook his head. “But the transporter told me years ago there are no other civilizations in the Milky Way.”

  Again he had the uneasy feeling he had overlooked something.

  “Apart from us humans and the creators of the spheres, have you discovered any other intelligent civilizations in the Milky Way?” the general asked.

  “No.”

  Like I said!

  “Can you tell us how often the transporter system has been used since it was created?” Russell asked.

  “I’m receiving more data via the interface. Hang on,” Mitchell said.

  A few seconds later the large screen filled with numbers.

  “The computer has successfully analyzed the data,” the engineer said.

  “Those are individual transports!” Dr. Hope gasped. “Those are start codes and destination codes. What is the first number in the row?”

  “Those are time designations, I think.”

  “But in what format?”

  “The numbers are very big. It must be a very basic unit,” Mitchell explained. “Perhaps the fine-structure constant? Yes, that could be it. I think it’s showing how long ago the transport was. Hold on, I’ll convert it into years.”

  “Those aren’t very many data sets. A few dozen,” Hope said.

  “They’re all ours.” Morrow pointed at the column. “The ones at the top are the ones from Venus. Then some from New California over the last twenty years, and the old ones from Nevada. And those ones underneath?

  “They are almost three-hundred million years ago. Those are the transports of the creators, before their world was destroyed. Also not many. A dozen, perhaps.”

  Russell shook his head. Once again it showed the magnitude of the transporter project. After the death of the creators, there had been nobody left in the galaxy to use the constantly expanding network. At the time, dinosaurs had roamed the Earth and humans did not yet exist. Only twenty years ago, humans had fished the transporter out of the ocean and put the legacy of the builders back into operation for the first time.

  Nobody had used it in between. There were no alien civilizations that had played around with the transporter and initiated the death zone——intentionally or unintentionally.

  “And those are really all transports from the very beginning until today?” Mitchell asked.

  “Yes, those are all transports. The list is complete,” the cool voice of the artificial intelligence droned through the control room.

  “We’re not getting anywhere,” Morrow said. He sat back down on his chair and rubbed his eyes, pushing his peaked cap out of place.

  “What shall we do?” Russell asked.

  “We will end the communication,” the general said firmly. “I need to speak to my superiors on Earth.”

  “It’s too soon to give up,” Russell said. “I can’t shake off the feeling we’re simply not asking the right questions.”

  “I didn’t say we should give up,” Morrow said, with a wave of his hand. “We will make another attempt this evening. Until then I would like you all to think about what we could have overlooked. I want you to form two teams.” He looked at Russell. “You, Ms. Wolfe, and Mr. Holbrook——discuss the situation and compile a list of questions. Dr. Hope and Mr. Mitchell, please do the same, but focus more on technical questions to find out how the transporter works. Maybe if we take an indirect route we’ll finally get some answers. There has to be something causing the death zone.” One by one, he looked everyone in the eye. “And I want to find out what it is!”

  Chapter 21

  “So let’s summarize what we know,” Russell said.

  Marlene sighed. “We’ve already done that twice and it hasn’t got us anywhere.” But Russell would not be discouraged and for the third time went back over the points they had written down on a piece of paper. Marlene was only half listening and trying hard not to fall asleep.

  Since Albert’s death two days ago, she had hardly shut her eyes. Her mind was spinning the whole time; it had taken on a life of its own, and she always came back to the same question: Whom should she blame for the death of her lover? General Morrow, who had ordered the dangerous mission? Russell, who hadn’t supported her in trying to put a stop to this craziness? Or herself, since she hadn’t been able to stop Albert from taking part in the first place?

  She brooded and brooded and couldn’t find an answer. As hard as Marlene tried to push aside these thoughts and concentrate on the matter at hand, the more they crowded back into her mind. Marlene blinked. She was tired; so very tired. It had all been too much. The fight against the monsters, dealing with the invaders on New California, and now the death zone. She’d known she had been pushing herself to the limit. But the prospect of finally living in peace, once the current danger was overcome, had always kept her going. Now Albert was dead and Marlene had nothing more to look forward to. The hope inside her had been extinguished. When Albert died, part of her had died with him. She wished she had gone on the mission instead of him.

  “What could we have missed?” Russell pondered. He was playing around with his pen and drawing circles on a piece of paper.

  “Nothing,” Marlene said softly.

  Russell looked at her for moment and then laid down his pen on the table in front of him. “Listen, I know how you feel, but——”

  Marlene exploded. “You don’t have the slightest idea how I feel! And if you hadn’t brushed me aside the way you did, if you’d help me argue with Morrow, then Travis and Albert would still be alive.”

  “Hey, calm down ...” Chris began.

  Russell sat up straighter. “The mission had to be carried out. It was a chance. Preparation could have been better, but we had to find out whether erasing the transporter from the network could have prevented its destruction. Albert and Travis knew that——that’s why they didn’t complain about going. If it had been my turn, I would have gone too.” He paused briefly and took a deep breath. “And if it had been your turn, you would have gone.”

  Marlene knew he was right. She would have gone. But still. He had left her in the lurch when it really mattered. In the early days in New California, she had always supported Russell, despite the fact that it w
as because of him she was stranded on this alien planet in the first place. She had defended him against her soldiers, whether he had deserved it or not. They had even become friends. Apart from Albert, it had been Russell whom she had always turned to when she had something on her mind. The feeling had been mutual——often Russell had come to her when he was having problems with Ellen or the children, or when the colonists became hostile toward him because of the past.

  But the friendship was over. It couldn’t be revived. Marlene would work with him when necessary, but she would never again get any pleasure out of it. She was beginning to hate Russell and didn’t have any energy left to fight the feeling. What was the point?

  “Do you want to know what I really think about the transporter?” she asked.

  “Tell me.”

  “The fucking machine from hell should have been destroyed right away back then in Nevada. That would have saved me, Albert, and countless other people a great deal of suffering.”

  Russell looked at her coolly. “Perhaps you’re right, but in that case, Albert would have been long gone. Executed. The transporter gave him a second chance. And me and Ellen. My children would never have been born. And for that I am thankful to the aliens who threw that thing onto Earth millions of years ago.”

  Marlene laughed gruffly. “Thankful? You blew up the transporter in Nevada!”

  Russell nodded. “Yes, and for the last twenty years I’ve been asking myself whether it was the right decision. But not anymore. The death zone has shown that a transporter has no business on Earth.”

  “And Ellen and your children will die together with you and me when the death zone reaches New California in a few days’ time.”