Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Three

by Nōnen Títi

  “The ground is rock-hard, too dry to dig in, and I can’t see any signs of recent or past movement or any evidence of regular moisture,” Daili said

  “There’s no indication of life, not even microscopic,” the botanist said. “No soil, just sand.”

  “I can’t tell you anything. No proof of any precipitation or of any weather. The climate indicates that it’s always this dry and even the wind I expected seems to be absent,” Kalim told them. He also mentioned the strange red cloud. All had seen it, but nobody could explain its colour or from where it had suddenly appeared without any wind.

  “We didn’t get as far as the ocean, but on land we found no evidence of past or present marine life,” Jenet confirmed.

  “So is that it?” Gabi asked. “Does that mean we can’t live here?”

  But it didn’t, not quite. Kalgar repeated that they’d known this continent had little to offer; he suspected it had to do with the very long winters during which it was immersed in darkness. This initial mission was intended to test the equipment, the ability for people to move, and the landers. The black blobs were more than he’d dared hope for. They were here to observe themselves and each other for any potential medical problems. Over the next two days they would do some more exploration walks and test what they could in the ground and the atmosphere. If all went well, they’d return on the third day; if not, they’d return as soon as possible. “So, Aryan, you need to ready her,” he said, indicating the lander.

  “No problem.” Aryan had no intention of taking a holiday on a piece of desert that made it impossible to move his legs.

  For the eight hours assigned to resting in the lander, Aryan slept deeply, after which he felt invigorated, though every move was still tiresome due to the sheer weight he had to carry around. When the others went for their walk, he contacted SJilai to keep them informed and wished he was back there. The lander came through the detailed check-up without a hitch.

  The land itself was not as desolate and still as it first appeared.

  “The sea is directly behind those rocks,” Kunag said, pointing at the rocky slope to the north.

  “You went all the way up there?” Aryan asked.

  “It wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t believe the sea could be as close as Jari’s map showed, so I had to keep on walking until I found it.”

  “And?”

  “It’s there, but it’s strange, Aryan, like that cloud.”

  Kunag recalled his struggle up the slope. He’d had to cover his face for there were masses of little things up there, so thick he could hardly see. “Not sand or insects, yet when I walked into it they scattered in all directions, not flying, but hovering low above the ground.” He had reached the top of the hill and looked out over the ocean, amazed at its closeness. Only then had he remembered that the seaside at home had the smell of salt announcing its proximity, but here he had smelled nothing, which explained why it felt out of place. “And it’s red, the sea is; too much red. It doesn’t make sense if Kun doesn’t set.”

  Aryan suddenly knew why the land felt so empty to him. There were no smells at all: Everything was bland. “So did you draw any of it?”

  That was what Kunag had come back to do, but he’d only just started when Kalgar returned and gave the boy a mouthful for going off on his own.

  Once again, the specialists reported their finds of the day: Nothing better had been discovered.

  “We’ll have to go into the sea to look for life. I’m sure we’ll find something recognizable, since there is oxygen,” Jenet said, more hopeful than sure.

  “There won’t be,” Kunag replied, before turning red when everybody looked at him.

  “And why would that be?”

  “Maybe because Kunag has learned to use his senses where you only ever use your head,” Aryan replied, and encouraged the boy to explain what he’d found.

  “If there’s no salt in the sea, how could there be life like on DJar?” Kunag asked.

  A discussion followed, but Aryan put his hand on Kunag’s shoulder and quietly told him not to be intimidated. “This is not DJar. They don’t know any more than we do.”

  A day later, nobody was sorry to prepare for their return to SJilai.

  “This one will be up to you again, Aryan. If you can get us back to the kabin safely, we’ll know we have a fair chance.”

  “You call that fair? No life, no water, and a body that can’t lift its own weight?”

  “Minor problems. The other continent will be better and the gravity needs a longer adjustment period.”

  “You’re an optimist, Kalgar.”

  “I thought you were too. Now are you going to fly us home or not?”

  Aryan did. The lander, now riser, responded exactly as it should. Ascent was quicker and a little less worrying than descent had been. Lower orbit was soon established. Then came the fun: It was up to Aryan to manoeuvre them into SJilai’s orbit and into dock; manual control to its precision. Every action, every moment was his own. His passengers applauded when he announced they’d returned to their nest; the little kabin had flown well. Tomorrow he’d check it over once more.

  After another adjustment period, the mandatory sterilization at the halfway dock, followed by a few hours of medical checks in the infirmary, his mat that night was a luxury.

  On inspection they found the lander was undamaged. The fuel tanks were okay and could last another three trips. Wolt came for an interview, which was fair enough, so Aryan told him all he wanted to know before spending the night with Maike. Kalgar had warned them not to go mentioning the seemingly hopeless landscape, but Aryan told her anyway.

  “So Kun’s wife is just a pretty face then,” she concluded, referring to the myth that told of Kun DJar’s inner beauty.

  A new period of waiting started, while the data was analyzed followed by more calculations and discussions to determine the timing and location of the second mission.

  “Will you go again?” Gabi asked.

  “No, you’ll go with Ulli. You can do the flying and she can learn; one at the time.” Aryan was content to do his shuttling on SJilai for now. “Can you handle that?” he asked when she didn’t answer.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Well, get practising until you know so.”

  An official switch to the Kun DJar calendar was announced within a moon of their return.

  “Isn’t that a bit early?” Aryan asked.

  But Wolt’s article in the bulletin left no doubt that this was permanent: “It is our new home they set first foot on and though our giant step went unnoticed in Bijari history, we will never forget it.”

  Hopes and Dreams

  Daili once again said goodbye to the girls, warning them to behave, and trusted Jema with the job of keeping an eye on them.

  “Don’t worry,” all three of them told her, but she did; she worried about the risk she and Kalim were once again taking together. If something happened, the girls would have nobody. On top of that, those flights made her feel sick.

  From the moment the little kabin left orbit until it touched the planet, Daili kept her eyes shut tight.

  “Were you scared?” Kalim asked.

  “Terrified.”

  By the time the pressure in the lander matched that of Kun DJar, it was dark outside and nobody was allowed to leave.

  This time they’d stay two kor if all went well; two Kun DJar kor were equal to six SJilai days, if you counted hours. There were five kor in a Kun DJar moon and five of those moons made one Kun DJar station. Eight stations made for a very long year. The system might work, but as far as Daili was concerned they should have changed the names – why call it a kor if it was only six days instead of eight? It was hopelessly confusing. At any rate, she’d spend twelve very short days and nights on the surface of this equatorial continent, now dubbed “Wetland”.

  For the landing, a big crater without vegetation, which sat near the coast, had been chosen. They relied on Daili to determine the lie of the
land; any signs of history or movement they could not detect from SJilai. The big question: would it be possible to start a settlement? It would be up to others to determine if the soil was suitable to make a living from. Last time, on Dryland, that had clearly been impossible, and this continent was their only chance.

  By morning, the idea of setting foot on this totally new land once again filled Daili with a solemn kind of pride. The silence was just as imposing as last time. So was the colour of the sky – a patchwork of deep pink with green and yellow clouds through which Kun shone orange, as if an interior decorator with psychedelic visions had been at work. Marita would cringe at the sight.

  Unlike on Dryland, the clouds here moved, and moved fast. And the land moved, since there was a lot of wind blowing the dry topsoil around as clouds of dust. Here and there a tumbling mass of strings, which could be plant material, rolled along. For the rest it was as desolate and barren as Dryland had been.

  With Kalim’s binoculars Daili could make out the rim of the far side of the crater. On the nearer side the view showed vague silhouettes of low vegetation. Somehow they’d have to climb out of this recess. She scanned the walls, which were dry rubble intermixed with larger rock and boulders. Some bands were visible, but she’d have to get closer to make any estimates of age or type. On the floor near the north slope sat a boulder the size of the kabin. It had a flattened top, possibly due to erosion, but the clouds’ coloured haze prevented her from seeing any clear outlines.

  Kalim took the binoculars from her. “Not much like home so far?”

  Home? No, this was their home. It had better be. Real estate was scarce around Kun.

  “That’s strange. That cloud over there is moving in the wrong direction.”

  Daili looked where he pointed. A thick black cloud was travelling toward them while the rest moved away.

  “Can it be our perspective? Don’t higher up clouds always move the other way?” she asked.

  “Not at that level they don’t.”

  Daili didn’t argue; he was the meteorologist, after all. She kicked the dirt away here and there. Underneath was rocky and dry, but the top layer was soil, not sand.

  “I’d wanted to climb up to the rim, but I had no idea it would be that high,” Kalgar said when he caught up with them. “How old is this hole, Daili?”

  “Very old,” she answered. What did he expect, dates?

  Kalgar shook his head full of hair – which had turned from brown to totally grey since they’d left DJar – and grinned a little boyishly, realizing the absurdity of his question.

  “So how will we get up there?” he asked, looking at the ragged rock wall rising up before them.

  “Very carefully, I hope,” Kalim answered.

  The three of them took turns scanning the slopes with the binoculars and concluded that they would have to make a zigzag trail up what was, according to the compass, the north side. It appeared the least steep. However, the compass and the map disagreed over which direction was north.

  “So if the compass is right then Dryland was at the north pole, not the south,” Kalim said.

  “But it can’t be, or we’d have found ourselves in the dark on the first mission,” Kalgar answered. “We landed where the scans guided us and the map is made from the scans.”

  “Unless the planet’s magnetism is reversed,” Daili replied.

  They engaged in a discussion over the differences between wind directions and magnetic directions, confusing each other as they went. “Do you think there will be anything predictable on this planet?” Kalgar asked.

  “Absolutely: I can predict that the weather will be as unpredictable as it was on Southland.”

  The two men wanted to try getting up the north slope tomorrow. They’d take mostly young people, an idea to which Daili had no objection since she had enough trouble walking on flat ground. They would take picks, ropes, shovels, and anything else useful to clear a trail. They’d leave at first light.

  Daili spoke her doubts about them reaching the top and returning in a mere four hours; not because of the distance, but because of the steep angle combined with their very slow bodies. They had brought battery lamps, but the terrain didn’t seem safe even in daylight, which was now vanishing fast so they went inside the lander to discuss the plan with the others.

  It wasn’t easy to sleep with five kor of people inside. Not that there was a lack of space – this kabin could take more than twelve times as many – but everybody was awake. Their internal timedisks weren’t set to a four hour day. By the time daylight returned, Daili had only just dozed off.

  Half the group left to try the north slope, armed with everything they had managed to find. The pilots and technicians went to work on checking the kabin, and those who were left explored the down slope of the crater in pairs. Daili ended up walking east with a young biologist named Sinti, a pretty blonde with big eyes.

  “Thank Bue we don’t have to climb up there,” Sinti said.

  “That makes two of us,” Daili answered.

  From that moment on, Sinti talked. Within half an hour she’d told Daili every detail of her childhood, from her overbearing mother to the comate she was travelling with and whom she suspected of having an affair with someone on Habitat Two. The stream of words tired Daili as much as the laboured walking.

  Here and there were bits of vegetation, stem-like purple things, for lack of a better term, and small grey twig-like protrusions; not much, but Sinti paid no attention to their presence at all. At the very bottom of the east wall, Daili brushed away some loose dirt to reveal a hard surface. There’d be very little use collecting pieces here. The few visible bands showed a fair amount of upward movement – whatever had hit here had hit hard. According to the scans, this was the only meteor crater on the entire planet, but it was huge. The moons were equally scarless; the little moon had a few, while the other one was perfectly smooth. A peaceful area of space or a rapid subduction and renewal cycle of the rock?

  A deep humming sound that seemed to come from inside the rock itself stopped Daili in her tracks. Almost without thinking, she put her hand on the surface. Could there be movement underneath? She felt nothing, yet the sound intensified to a shrill singing, so hurtful she had to cover her ears. It lasted minutes before fading.

  “I don’t like this. Let’s go back,” Sinti whimpered.

  Trying to put the girl at ease, Daili suggested that Sinti tell her what she thought about the bits of ‘plant’. Were they plants?

  “I don’t know that; I’ve never seen it before,” Sinti answered, without looking.

  “I understand it’s all new to you, but can’t you compare it to something on DJar?”

  Sinti repeated she wouldn’t know; she knew nothing of plants.

  A sudden realization, soon confirmed by a flood of words once Daili started asking, revealed that Sinti had never studied biology. She had left Learners before the final exams. She had run away from her mother when she was seventeen and had committed to the boy who had provided the false records so they could get onto the kabin. “I heard once that biologists study animals and I like them,” she said. “You won’t tell, will you?”

  So often Kalim had said what Daili now recognized in herself: “As soon as somebody looks at you with sad eyes you feel sorry for them and end up doing all their work.”

  He was right, so Daili tried to ignore her first impulse and explained how important it was that the scientific details were right. But when Sinti insisted that her ex-comate would kill her if somebody found out, Daili’s determination disappeared. The girl might need protecting from this man; it wasn’t so easy to say no.

  Without thinking, she ran her hand over a purple stem, which suddenly moved away as if the plant withdrew it – or rather the rock did, since there was no plant. Startled, Daili stepped back, remembering the warning not to touch what they didn’t know. She walked north in silence – Sinti followed without another word – and stopped to have a good look at the boulder. It wa
s tall as a house and smooth. If not water, then certainly wind erosion must have a major part to play in this landscape.

  Kalim and the rim team returned when it was nearly dark. They had not yet reached a quarter of the way up the slope, but had managed to secure some sort of path and left the rope suspended between metal stakes at regular intervals to serve as a hand rail. The botanist had found strangely-coloured vegetation, similar to that which Daili had. Everyone had heard the sound, which had started at the same time as the driving-in of the stakes, but they had no explanation. The zoologist, Remag, had caught a splinter from what had seemed to be a piece of rock and which had burned his skin; Kala had a lot of trouble getting it out.

  Not much was said during the meal; all were tired. Daili went out to sit on the steps of the lander and was struck by the clarity of the night sky. The haze was gone and the moon, the closest one, half illuminated by Kun, was setting so rapidly it appeared to be falling down. How beautiful to be able to sit here and know they were the only ones to have this view. The people of DJar had a moon that set slowly. Who knew if elsewhere in the universe creatures were watching a different scene, but Kun DJar was theirs, and it felt good.

  Kalim put his hand on her knee. “What are you smiling about?”

  She told him what she’d been thinking.

  “Yes, we’re sure lucky,” he said. “No telling what it will be like living here, though. It’ll be very windy forever.”

  Daili leaned against him, sharing his warmth. He started to look more and more like Aryan with that beard. It suited him too. It suited this land: rough and strong.

  “How is it the moonlight is so bright with only this small moon?” he asked, pointing at the biggest of Kun DJar’s two satellites, which was only half the size Agjar had been.

  The only explanation Daili could give was the brightness of Kun itself and the moon’s proximity, combined with the increased reflectivity from its smooth surface.

  When it got too cold, they went inside. Daili noticed Sinti watching her. What should she do about the girl? It wouldn’t be right for the rest of them to just let it be, but there had been some fear in that plea. How many other desperate people had come on this journey? Why had so many been so determined to get away from DJar that they’d lied, pleaded, caused trouble, ran away from comates, from parents, from jobs? Why had Daili herself decided to leave, desperate enough to give up Anni for it?