The Farthest City

by Daniel P Swenson

  Abby looked to Kellen. He understood Izmit’s unwillingness to quit. They were close, he could feel it, the space around them attentive, ready to do the something they’d spent their entire lives waiting for. And who knew what destruction raged above? But Sayuri did not look well. She sipped her water, sitting on the cold, smooth floor.

  Kellen turned to face Izmit. “Iz—”

  “Keep singing,” Izmit said with a growl in his voice Kellen had never heard before.

  Sayuri started to sing again, but broke down in a fit of rasping coughs. After the coughs diminished, she finished the water, set the bottle down, and closed her eyes. Abby sat and put her arm around her. Izmit glowered.

  Something in Kellen’s peripheral vision drew his eye to the opening in the tunnel. Figures had begun to climb through. One, two, more. Kellen watched, eyes wide and mouth open, as five figures assembled outside of the bounding ring, three men and two women in dark clothes, their faces grim. The wrongness of it seeped into his awareness. It was supposed to have been just them. Their secret. The Four.

  Izmit walked up to the newcomers and greeted them.

  He knows them. Kellen thought back to when he’d met Izmit, when he’d decided to trust him. He looked at Abby, she at him. She seemed dumbfounded as well. A deep pain throbbed in his gut. Iz. His friend.

  “Who are these people, Iz?” he called out.

  Izmit said something to the man next to him, who nodded.

  “They’re here to help us,” Izmit said.

  “Who are they?”

  “Friends.”

  Izmit’s eyes said to trust him, but Kellen couldn’t find any trust to give. “Not my friends,” he said. “What have you done, Iz?”

  Were they chine cultists? He thought back to Izmit’s disappearance, the chine cult. Assumptions began to crumble, questions form. What had been truth, what lies?

  Izmit rubbed his forehead as if to remove the pained expression he now wore. “I would have told you, Kel.”

  “Told me what?”

  “These people are with the government. They’re government agents. They’ve been helping me. Helping us. I couldn’t tell you, or Abby or Sayuri. I have good reasons. You just need to trust me.”

  The people, the government people, didn’t look like the chine cultists. They did not display the emblem of the chine cult, but neither did they wear uniforms or insignia or badges. Two of them set up equipment outside of the bounding ring. Two others climbed back into the tunnel. The last stepped closer and spoke with Izmit in hushed tones. Not one said a word to Kellen, Abby, or Sayuri. They seemed to be relying on Izmit as some kind of interpreter, as if he and the others were natives of some foreign land.

  His suspicions weighed like a hard stone in his throat. So what if they were government agents? He remembered the rumors of the Four being disappeared by the government. They’d taken Cesar, and he’d never seen his friend again. Would they disappear now, too, just like that? Everything was wrong. His mouth tasted like iron. He thought it was anger.

  “They offered to help, to get us what we needed,” Izmit said crossing back into the ring. “They know about the Four and the chine levels below the city. You never would have learned the right symbols to use without them.”

  Kellen stared at his friend. The words failed to comfort him.

  “The Four could never succeed on their own. We need help, support.”

  Help? Who did he mean? Who were these people, and what had Izmit gotten them into? Everything Kellen believed was in question. He’d stepped far out on rotten ice and never even known.

  Izmit’s face was earnest. “Most Singers commit suicide before they ever find their counterparts, before they even go underground.”

  “When you were kidnapped,” Kellen began to ask. “By the chine cultists—”

  “That was real. Those people were crazy, and I’d be dead if you and Abby hadn’t found me.”

  Kellen thought he heard pleading in Izmit’s voice. He wanted to trust him.

  Kellen tried to think of what to say next, but something fell onto the platform with a crash. A section of the tunnel wall had fallen. A large, dark shape emerged from the enlarged hole in the tunnel. The thing planted four massive feet onto the platform, each hitting the floor with a thud. He’d seen images of them, even a few pixelated videos. But nothing in his mind could reconcile the reality a Hexi now stood on the platform. Its black eyes gave no clue as to their point of focus. The Hexi lifted a slender appendage, like a tentacle flattened at the end. It removed a tripod from a pouch on its back, unfolded it, and attached a device.

  “What is—what is that thing doing here, Max?” Izmit shouted, animated by a new ferocity, his jaw clenched and teeth bared.

  “Shut up,” the closest agent said.

  Izmit turned to Kellen. “This isn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Kellen looked to Abby. Her face registered shock, her face slack and eyes filled with a vacant terror. Sayuri nestled in her lap, her hands over her eyes as if to shield herself from the awful truth. Kellen laughed at the surrealness of it all. Everything they’d done was somehow tied to the Hexi, the aliens that had invaded their planet, the beings intent on destroying Jesup right at that very moment. Had the Hexi been aiding them, controlling them, all along? Had Izmit known? Was his reaction an act? Kellen tried to put the pieces together into something that made sense, but they wouldn’t fit.

  They didn’t have to. Reality reasserted itself, crowding out his insignificant thoughts. Izmit ran toward the Hexi and its device, reached out to pull it down, only to be seized and thrown to the floor by two of the agents. The Hexi did something to the device on the tripod, then held up a second, smaller device. A distorted voice came from the device. “Enter the ring.”

  Three agents stepped into the circle at the Hexi’s command.

  The Hexi followed, stepping gingerly over the bounding ring as if it feared some danger. “The Singer. Make her vocalize.”

  The agent standing closest to Sayuri drew a knife from her belt. The blade’s edge shone in the light. She stepped toward Sayuri, then paused as song filled the air, soft but strong.

  Kellen heard the familiar notes coming from Sayuri, the song she’d always hummed as she fell asleep, the song he couldn’t get out of his head back when he’d been so frustrated with his new roommate, the song he now guessed she’d sung to herself years ago, before she’d left her childhood behind. Pearl sang the same song.

  Sayuri gave words to the tune, and everyone turned to her, listening.

  Baby beloved,

  Little Pa-Diddle,

  I miss you already,

  My dearest riddle,

  I’ll never be far, my dear.

  Izmit stood next to Kellen within the bounding ring. Abby sat cradling Sayuri in her arms. Sayuri’s eyes were fixed on Kellen’s as she sang.

  Something pulled on him. His bag, full of brushes and tools, pulled away from him toward the center of the circle. So did the metal on his belt and shoes. Tools Abby had put on the platform skittered in the same direction, as if dancing. High overhead, below and all around them, the sphere began to rotate. A whining filled his ears. He looked at Abby and Sayuri. The air between them seemed to shimmer.

  “Izmit?” Abby called, her voice uncertain. “Kellen?”

  Kellen thought what she must have been thinking. What have we started?

  He felt off balance. The magnetism, the shimmering air, the government agents. The Hexi. Was he delusional? I must be.

  The metal he wore pulled harder. The sphere spun around them, faster than ever. The air melted, and his vision blurred.

  Baby beloved,

  Little Pa-Diddle,

  Far as I’ll be,

  I’ll be there for you,

  Baby Pa-Diddle,

  Stars in the middle,

  I’ll dry your tears, my dear.

  As the last syllable left Sayuri’s lips, it seemed to Kellen her body was consumed in fire. White
-hot light cascaded upward around her, a column of light. Sayuri cried out. Kellen rushed toward her, but the light engulfed them all.

  A wall of sound hit Kellen’s ears. Light seeped in from everywhere and pain clouded everything. Then it all turned off into a void of the senses so deep no image or sound, however faint, came to him. He was completely lost until he remembered his mother. His father. His work. Creating art as a child and a man. Places he’d been, food he’d eaten, stars and trees and buildings and people and animals and mountains and rivers and symbols. His life in parallel cascades.

  The movie stopped.

  Chapter 10 – Signals

  Sheemi reported to Bravo. She’d caught her new boss not long after his shift had ended. The officers never seemed to sleep, and he looked dead-tired.

  “Sergeant Tanamal.” Captain Ciib wasn’t much older than her, a few years maybe, although his hair was already going to gray.

  He had sad eyes, she thought, but kind. “Sir.”

  “Colonel Go gave me the gist of the situation.”

  She expected him to be angry at being stuck with someone like her, but he showed no sign of it.

  “You’ll be working with some of our civilian crew. The scientists. They don’t follow the shifts. Most are probably in the lab now. You’ll meet them later.”

  Civilians. She’d looked on them with disdain most of her life. Now she was all but one of them. What else did she expect would have happened? What kind of soldier could she be with a baby growing inside of her? “Yes, sir.”

  “Later on, when we have time, I’d like to speak to you about what happened. What you were going through.”

  That caught her off guard. Ciib didn’t sound like your typical officer or the no-nonsense NCOs she’d worked with, like who she used to be.

  “You’ll continue med checks with Major Veillon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get some sleep,” he said, seemingly unaware of his own lack of it. “Stow your gear and meet me in the mess at zero six hundred.”

  She made her way back to the dorm mod and moved her things to berth D with the civs. It was messier than any soldiers’ barracks, clothes draped over bunks, loose equipment on the floor. It would be a disaster if they ever lost g.

  She chose a spare bunk and lay down. Sleep wouldn't come despite her exhaustion. She thought of the new people she’d be working with now, people she’d only seen during rushed mealtimes, passing one another as the shifts turned over. Her stomach began to unsettle, nervousness catching up with her. She imagined the tiny baby swimming in her belly, dreaming, listening to the wind of her breathing through bone and muscle.

  #

  Sheemi walked stoically into the mess. Plenty of glances came her way, but she filled her tray and stood beside Captain Ciib. Even more glances.

  “Take a seat, Sheemi,” he said.

  Several other soldiers sat around the table. Bravo Team. She’d seen them around, but hadn’t spoken to them much. She flushed but sat as instructed.

  “I want to introduce a new team member. Sergeant Sheemi Tanamal’s been reassigned from Alpha. She’ll be working with our science staff, and I want each of you to make her feel part of the team. That’s all.”

  Sheemi’s ears and face burned. He might as well have lit her up with a laser guide.

  “Hello,” she said, then kept her head down. The last thing she wanted was to offend anyone or get in trouble.

  Ciib put down his utensils. “Listen up, everyone. We move again tomorrow. Stay focused on the mission. Complete your assignments on time. Keep safe and hope for the best.”

  He left shortly after saying this. Sheemi bolted the rest of her food and went to clean her tray.

  One of the Bravo soldiers walked up behind her, a tall black woman dancing a knife through her fingers. She had the lean grace of a cat. “What’d you do?”

  A few other soldiers came over. Sheemi wasn’t surprised. She knew how dull things were. She was the juiciest thing to happen since the chine stuff they’d found back at OGLE-TR-56.

  “I got pregnant,” she said.

  “Abort it,” a stocky, bow-legged man suggested with a lopsided smile.

  “Leave her alone, Durskie,” a lanky blond man said.

  “Shit, it was just a suggestion.”

  “Well, stow it. And what about those H-12s I told you to field strip this morning?”

  “Damn, forgot.” Durskie left.

  The blond turned her way. “Don’t pay him any mind. I’m Ash Quid, Bravo Team leader. This is Neecie Birdel.”

  The woman with the knife gave her a nod and a sly smile.

  “I’m Jerrold.” A paunchy man jiggled his belly, an infectious grin spread across his wide, dark face. “I’m preggers, too!”

  Everyone laughed, and no one asked her more about it. It was against regs, and for this mission amounted to mutiny. But done was done.

  #

  They IFD’d into the eleventh system. Sheemi struggled to recover the rest of the day. Other than some lingering fatigue and having to piss more, she felt fine the next morning. After a checkup with Major Veillon, she made her way along the ring to the lab. She stepped inside, and for a second, it reminded her of the one back on Earth, blue blood draining onto a concrete floor.

  She tried to clear that from her head as she approached a group of people seated, arguing, around one of the tables. The table was cluttered with images, graphs, tables of numbers, and star charts. She stood back, waiting for the civs to acknowledge her. Civilians, she reminded herself. She’d only ever wanted to be a soldier. I doubt they’ll ever let me handle a weapon again, she thought wistfully.

  After several minutes, someone turned off the table. The images disappeared, and a tall man rose, his balding skull crowned in silver hair. His hands were soft, but his grip was not.

  “Sheemi Tanamal?” he said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m Doctor Gavin Na. Ambassador and chine historian.”

  “Good to meet you, sir.”

  He crinkled his eyes as if amused. “None of that, Sheemi. Call me Gavin. We know this is the Army’s ship, but in here we like to pretend we have autonomy, our own little university, if you will.”

  The others had risen, and Gavin introduced them.

  “Doctor Xin Yang, machine sciences and signal analysis.”

  The frail-looking woman shook Sheemi’s hand. “Just Xin.”

  “Doctors Ceryl Abbot and Michael Omeri, our astronavigators.”

  The two men nodded, smiled, and refocused on their data.

  Gavin looked around the lab. “Doctor Meszaros is the last of our team. He’ll turn up later, I expect.” He moved to the other end of the lab, gesturing for her to follow. “So welcome, Sheemi. You’re probably wondering what work you’ll be doing. First, let me tell you what we’re up to. Each system we visit, we send out probes, looking for signs of the chines’ presence. Settlements, equipment, debris. You’re familiar with what we found at OGLE-TR-56, of course.”

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “We’re headed generally towards the galactic core,” he said. “At each new system, we image each planet and major satellites and scan for radiation sources and structures. While we’re working, Xin analyzes incoming energy sources. We’ve got feelers out across the spectrum—radio, microwave, whatever the chines might be using.”

  “I’m looking for signals with information content,” Xin said. “The chines will likely be communicating within systems, or even between stars, and I hope to detect that.”

  “We’ve also been analyzing samples of chine artifacts salvaged at OGLE-TR-56,” Gavin went on. “Laser spectrometry, X-ray diffraction, various dating methods. We think they’re the remains of an orbital launching platform, but we’re not certain. They’re fairly old on a human scale, at least twelve hundred years.”

  Sheemi tried to envision chines crossing this part of space twelve hundred years ahead of them. She thought back to her school days. “Woul
dn’t that be—”

  “Yes,” Gavin said. “Before the human race had even been reborn. Although from a celestial or even a geologic standpoint, that’s just the blink of an eye timewise.”

  He walked her down to the far end of the lab, where a variety of complicated-looking objects was stacked, some as large as a weapons locker, others barely visible in small plastic containers. She couldn’t tell what they might have been.

  “Ceryl and Michael are busy plotting our next list of target destinations. We’re hoping the artifacts’ material characteristics might yield clues as to particular systems we should visit based on stellar metallicity.”

  He explained how that was accomplished, but quickly lost her with technical terms and scientific concepts.

  “Any questions?” he asked, smiling.

  “Just one for now. What will I be doing? I never learned science back on Earth.”

  Gavin didn’t seem surprised. Ciib must have briefed him.

  He reached out and touched a meter-long metallic object, like a piece of whale rib, but machined with surgically precise geometry. Depressions peppered its surface in intricate patterns, all with clean edges, as if it were a part designed to fit into some more complicated piece or pieces.

  “We thought you could start by moving some of the smaller artifacts up from cargo, like this one, scanning and cataloguing them, then taking back those we’ve finished examining. We collected a lot, but as you can see, our laboratory space is limited. Here’s a list.”

  She blinked the list open. Items in numbered rows with descriptions of dimensions, mass, appearance.

  “I can do that,” she said.

  #

  The civilians were easy to deal with. They had no expectations of her as a soldier, and the tasks they gave her were mostly trivial, the kinds of things assigned to someone new and undependable. As she spent the day retrieving artifacts from cargo, she had time to ponder her fate. She’d been given a second chance. A fresh start. But for what?

  On her second trip to cargo, the lights were already on. Curses came from behind a tall container. She rounded the corner. One of the techs hurled equipment to the floor.