She closed her eyes and pictured herself on the exotic planet once more. Standing alone at the top of a hill overlooking a pink ocean with glints from the dim red sun. Wispy clouds drifted across the sky and thin grasslike plants grew at her feet, bending gracefully under the gentle wind.
Tim might be right. The other side of the portal would probably be nothing like that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The O&C clean room had been transformed overnight. Marie knew it would. Had her job remained administrative coordinator, she would have been responsible for making it happen.
The white oval portal still stood alone in the center of the room, with four transfer stations—the dentist chairs—positioned on its platform. But to one side, a low barrier separated the transfer station from bleachers that were now mostly filled with people. The place looked like a basketball arena.
Zin led, followed by the four katanauts dressed in blue jumpsuits, a NASA or ESA patch on one arm and a Mission to the Stars patch on the other. As they started across the wide floor and made their way to the center, applause rippled through the stands of spectators. Reporters lined the barrier, cameras rolling.
“I had no idea it was going to be this public,” Wesley said to Marie, walking at her side.
Marie nodded. “Once we decided against the clean-room concept, NASA figured this should be like any launch. Observers, spouses, politicians… and the press.”
“Except they’re a lot closer than they would be to Pad 39C,” Wesley noted. “Let’s hope nothing blows up.”
Marie inspected the former astronaut’s eyes. He didn’t seem to be kidding.
Several NASA engineers sat at the Transfer Command Station surrounded by computers and other equipment. Jessica, the “capsule communicator” for the launch, stood at one end wearing a headset. The terminology from the days of rockets would die hard. With an entirely new method of space travel, the roar of a rocket would be replaced by two 4-D bubbles. A large one generated from Ixtlub, a smaller one from this room by using technology Zin had orchestrated. The unseen bubbles would intersect at the portal doorway. Four chairs would simply slide along a rail and disappear through the portal, transported across three hundred and fifty light-years of space that had been compressed to almost nothing.
The team exchanged handshakes and hugs and waved to the crowd and the cameras. A few minutes later, Jessica called out in a loud voice that could be heard across the entire room. “We have 4-D detection! Countdown commencing at T-minus eight minutes.”
They gathered closely around Zin. “Ixtlub has initiated on their side. You know what to do,” he told them. Marie did. At least she hoped she did. The pages of documentation had become a blur, and her body was running on pure adrenaline.
The first step was the remainder of the suiting-up process. They each donned a lightweight headset with an earpiece, good for transmitting and receiving up to ten kilometers and a built-in video camera that could record for several hours. Tim strapped a belt around his waist, the signal repeater for the whole team that allowed for communications back to Earth via 4-D space.
Next was a small oxygen bottle that hung on Marie’s hip, with a clear tube connected to a tiny cannula inserted into her nose. A little uncomfortable, but vastly better than a full pressure suit and helmet. The Ixtlub atmosphere, like Earth’s, was mostly nitrogen, but the oxygen content was only half of Earth’s 21 percent. Without the cannula, they would quickly become dizzy or disoriented. A water bottle was clipped to the other hip, with a small waterproof fanny pack in between. Zin carried a larger case containing spare oxygen bottles, additional water and food sufficient for their two-day trip.
Once she was fully suited, Marie sat in the third chair. It even had her name on it. A technician reclined the chair and fastened the hip and shoulder straps that connected in a center buckle. “Just push the center button to release,” he told her. He did a quick communications check and she gave him a thumbs-up.
“T-minus two minutes and counting,” Jessica declared. “All systems are green.”
A launch control officer verified that each team member was seated and indicated his authorization to proceed. When the countdown reached one minute, the hoods on the backs of the chairs automatically positioned themselves over each person’s face. It was Marie’s first opportunity to see what might be under the mysterious device. Disappointingly, there was nothing more than a single LED, unlit.
Beneath the sides of the hood, she watched the technicians back away from the chairs. Wesley sat to her right and Stephanie to her left. Stephanie made eye contact. The mock silent scream on her face did nothing to disguise the broad smile.
“T-minus ten seconds, nine, eight, seven…”
It’s finally happening. I’m leaving Earth.
Her heart pounded. She was thankful there were no biometrics included in their gear. Better to be nervous in private.
“…three, two, one. Launch initiated.”
The LED flashed with a yellow light as brilliant as the midday sun. The world—and time itself—froze.
9
Dancers
The blast of yellow light was shockingly bright. Marie reflexively drew her hands over her eyes and waited for the afterimage to fade.
Sunglasses would have been a nice option.
Logically, the flash was not the first, but the second, bringing her back to consciousness. Time had passed, though how much was not clear. She had no memory of the gap, just a vague feeling that her existence had been altered in a way she’d never experienced before.
As the hood automatically lifted, she opened her eyes. An empty space surrounded her, with dim light glittering. She lifted her head from the chair. Stephanie to her left, conscious and looking around. Wesley to her right, detaching his harness. Marie pushed the button and the straps fell away. She sat up straight and stared in awe at the very alien scene.
Amazing.
The four transfer chairs were lined up across a flat green platform, inside a room-sized bubble of air, with a dome of clear water all around. They were on the floor of a shallow sea, with shafts of reddish light penetrating from a surface not far above. The platform was wide enough for the chairs, but not much more. Beyond its edge, a seafloor of white sand stretched out for several hundred yards and eventually rose to a hill in the distance, covered with dozens of white buildings with blue tops. It reminded Marie of the charming towns that graced the hillsides of many Greek islands, though it was entirely underwater.
To the left, just beyond the edge of the dome of air, a forest of giant kelp swayed gently in ocean currents. The dark green plants seemed to reach all the way to the surface. Marie pushed from her chair and stood upright. Tim and Wesley were also up and walking around the platform. Just beyond her teammates, but still inside the air bubble, stood a white oval portal. It looked identical to the portal at the O&C building, now very far away.
We made it. The other side.
She smiled at Wesley and he smiled back, remaining silent. No one dared interrupt the mesmerizing quiet and beauty of the place. Marie stepped forward, toward the wall of clear water at the front edge of the platform. There was no glass barrier; the water itself formed a smooth surface starting from the platform and arching over their heads.
Approaching within inches, she reached out a hand and touched it. Wet and soft, just like touching any water surface, even though this one was nearly vertical. She released her hand. The surface wobbled slightly but remained in place.
“Wow,” she whispered. “Surface tension, but somehow controlled.”
She extended an index finger, slid it through the water barrier and withdrew it. Her finger returned wet, but not a drop came out from where she’d poked.
Stephanie moved in close, a red light on her headset indicating her camera was recording Marie’s interaction with the wall of water. “No sign of our hosts,” she said as the recording’s narrator. “But their planet is stunning.”
Marie wasn’t rea
dy to think; it was enough to absorb the picturesque yet unfamiliar scene. She leaned back, looking straight overhead. The bubble was considerably higher than any room ceiling, perhaps fifteen feet overhead. Well above, through ocean currents and surface waves, she thought she could see blue sky and clouds, though the cloud edges were tinged with red, like sunset.
Blue sky is nitrogen, just like Earth.
Marie wondered how far it might be to the surface and whether they could swim—only in an emergency, of course. Her heart pounded with an instant adrenaline spike. She looked around, panicked. “Where’s Zin?”
Stephanie switched off her headset cam. “Good question.”
Tim checked his communication relay. “I’ve got nothing. Zin was supposed to walk through before us. He should have been here when we arrived.”
Without Zin, this mission would deteriorate very quickly. She recalled what Tim had so bluntly explained the day before: things do go wrong.
“Don’t panic,” Wesley said. “We’ve got the comm link and the chair recall buttons. If for some reason Zin didn’t make it through the portal, there’s no reason we can’t return to Earth and reorganize. Tim, let them know.”
“I already did,” Tim said. “No response yet.”
Wesley was right, but the feeling of abandonment was still disconcerting.
“Somebody’s coming.” Stephanie pointed out to the sandy hill, where a vessel of some kind moved through the water. Cylindrical, and silver in color, like a small submarine. As it approached, its size became more apparent, as large as a bus. Its motion stirred the white sand on the ocean floor. The vessel had vertical and horizontal fins that pivoted, turning it as it neared the platform. It stopped and lowered to the seafloor, and a hatch opened at its stern.
A figure descended to the white sand, cocooned in what appeared to be a bubble of air like their own, but smaller. The diffraction at bubble’s surface distorted the view of the being inside. “This is it, gang,” Tim said.
Stephanie switched on her headset cam and everyone else followed suit. With lanky arms and legs, it walked across the sand toward them. “Wait a second, that’s not a Dancer,” Wesley said. “It’s Zin.”
The wavering image sharpened as the familiar shape of the copper-colored android moved closer. The egg-shaped bubble of air surrounding him reached to the sandy bottom and moved with him as he walked.
He waved a hand in greeting and leaped up to the edge of the platform. As he entered, the wall of water magically parted and resealed behind him, leaving both Zin and the platform entirely dry.
“So sorry,” he said, ignoring the aqueous miracle he’d just performed. “I intended to be back before you arrived, but discussions didn’t go exactly as planned.”
Marie heaved a sigh, relieved not only that Zin had been found but also that he seemed so at home in this strange world, as any experienced guide should be.
“We thought we’d lost you,” Stephanie said.
“I do apologize,” Zin replied. “It was only a slight detour. I believe we’re back on track.” Stephanie touched his arm, looking just as relieved.
“Nice trick with the bubble, Zin,” Tim said.
“Fairly simple, really,” Zin answered. He touched a small, almost hidden wire on his hip that extended two feet straight out to his side. “Enhanced electrostatics increase the natural tendency of water molecules to adhere to one another. You will each be doing this while we’re here.”
He addressed the whole team. “I’ve just spoken with my counterpart, and the change in plans is minor. Instead of using their meeting facility, the Dancers wish to greet you right here. This platform is normally just a transfer station, but there seems to be some nervousness on their part.”
“They’re worried about us?” Stephanie asked.
Zin tilted his head in a very humanlike way. “Mmm. Cautious, I would say. The Dancers can be quite bold, but I’ve noticed a reluctance too. You are only the second intelligent species that has visited Ixtlub.”
“So, will they join us here on the platform?” Wesley asked.
“No,” Zin answered. “But near enough that you will get a good sense of them. If this first step goes well, there will be more. Are you prepared?” He looked around, and each team member nodded.
Zin pulled a penlike device from a slot on his belt and spoke into it. The sounds he made were guttural, complex, muffled and weighted heavily toward sharp consonants like x and k. The words, if they were words, were unintelligible, but the variety could certainly pass for a spoken language. The device responded, emitting more of the same sounds.
“They’re coming now,” he said.
Everyone watched the vessel, floating less than a hundred feet away. A form descended from the open hatch. Metallic, with coloring similar to Zin, but an entirely different shape. The thing looked like a bell, complete with a clapper hanging below it. Its top sloped to a slender crown whose surface was marked by several circular shapes. The clapper gently rested on the sand and then pushed off toward the platform. They’d all seen photos of Dancers. This being was similar, but different.
“My Ixtlub counterpart,” Zin explained. “Aainatonia. She speaks English, fluently in my opinion, though her style is oriented to a Dancer thought process.”
The bell-shaped being bounded in long arcs over the sandy bottom to the platform’s edge. She seemed not to have any mouth but formed perfectly audible words that passed easily through the several feet of water between them. “Welcome. You are as your images. Very fine. I am Aainatonia, an assistant.”
No one spoke for a second as they absorbed the odd circumstance. Finally, Tim spoke. “Good to meet you, Aa… ina… sorry. Can you hear us?”
“Quite well,” Aainatonia replied. “Your sound transmits by water and air. It is good. Aastazin is called by you, Zin. If helpful, you may call me Tonia.”
“Easier,” Tim said.
“Each of you is comfortable inside?” Tonia asked.
“She means inside the bubble,” Zin added. “Any dizziness? Cannulas all working?”
They all nodded. Marie had completely forgotten the oxygen tube was even in her nose. Tonia pivoted, and the clapper, which was apparently flexible, twisted with her move. “I present to you, new friends.” She issued some unintelligible sounds.
From the hatch a white form appeared, followed by another, and another. Four in all. Slender jellyfish, if there was a single description for the elegant creatures. White, but translucent. Each slender head smoothly transitioned to a body that ended abruptly in an outward flair, like a girl’s skirt. Protruding from below the skirt was a thick vertical stalk and several tentacles swaying like ribbons around a maypole. Some of the creatures retracted their tentacles and stalk higher, almost completely hidden by the skirt. Others allowed them to dangle.
One of the creatures bent forward and shot straight ahead, instantly stopping next to Tonia and dropping its stalk to the sandy floor. Side by side, the similarity in shape between the soft white creature and the metallic Tonia was obvious, just as Zin approximated a human form. Another creature zipped to the front, moving twenty feet almost instantaneously. Their speed through the water was nothing less than remarkable. With all four gathered next to their guide, the line of humans faced the line of Dancers with only a few feet of water separating them.
“Jellyfish,” Tim mumbled. “Just like the pictures.”
“They’re beautiful,” Stephanie said. “Better than the pictures.”
Wesley turned to Zin. “Protocol? I’m sure we can do more than stare at each other.”
“I suggest you start with a question,” Zin answered.
Wesley looked eager and gave a slight bow. “Thank you so much for inviting us. I’m curious if the water transmits your voices?”
Wesley had at least ten questions prepared in advance—they all did. But now that they were just steps away from obviously intelligent creatures, Marie imagined the conversation might become somewhat more impromptu. She h
oped none of them would say or do something that might be taken wrong and remembered to keep her hands at her side.
One of the creatures dipped slightly and issued a guttural response oddly mixed with a few high squeaks. Tonia quickly translated. “She welcomes you and wonders if you can hear her.”
“Perfectly,” Wesley replied. “This is great.”
Stephanie pointed to her camera headset and asked if she could record. Tonia left the response to the creature on the end. It promptly pivoted in a full circle and tipped its head to one side, almost comically.
“He’s posing for you,” Zin said. “I believe your video is authorized.”
Stephanie switched the camera on. “We’re already using the words he and she and our briefing documents explained that you are male and female but honestly, I can’t tell the difference. Can you help?”
There was some conversation between Tonia and several of the Dancers. Finally, Tonia responded. “They ask you the same question.”
Stephanie doubled over laughing. “Oh, my God, we’re really at the basics!”
Tonia continued. “Yes, two forms. You may use the words male and female, but they do not have the same meaning. Males are darker with a straight central spine. Females are lighter and less straight.”
The briefing documents used a similar description but also mentioned that unlike humans, there was no height difference between Dancers.
“Does anyone see that?” Stephanie asked under her breath. “I sure don’t.”
“Try to practice,” Tonia said.
Stephanie blushed. Sound traveled well, and Tonia didn’t miss a thing.
Zin spoke in the Dancer language and then in English that he had explained the differences between male and female humans. None of the katanauts asked for the precise anatomical translation or how Zin had gained this information.
Each person took a turn asking a question, mostly drawn from their predefined list though a few unrehearsed questions popped up and Zin didn’t object. Some were about physical biology and eating habits, some about customs and social structure. The Dancers responded with many of their own questions and Zin translated as various team members responded.
Quantum Void Page 6