Metal Sky

by Jay Caselberg

  Ten

  Mandala loomed in the viewscreens, a veldt world, green-brown, with mountains on the main continent, small icecaps, and just the edge of an ocean visible. Jack knew from Billie’s notes that most of the planet was landmass. The seas were more like vast salt lakes than oceans. There were no industries, a few nonsentient native life-forms, and little else apart from the resort and the ruins. Jack could see nothing of either the resort or the archeological site from this distance. He watched the planet grow larger and larger. Billie, beside him, was staring fascinated. He didn’t think it was the fact that it was a new world that had piqued her interest—she’d traveled offworld before, after all—but rather Mandala itself.

  The descent was quick, and they touched gently down at Mandala’s port before they knew it. The ship settled and the door slid open. Jack and Billie unstrapped themselves and stood, heading for the steps that would take them to the ground, their steward ushering them to the door. At the bottom stood a woman dressed in the hotel uniform, deep green with a simple yellow blouse. She smiled broadly as they descended step by step.

  “Mr. Stinson, welcome to Mandala. Welcome to the Mandala Country Club.”

  Jack nodded.

  “And this must be your niece, Susan.” Jack glanced at Billie, then back at the woman, and smiled. Billie smiled widely at the woman.

  “Welcome, both of you. My name is Stella. I’m here to make your journey to the resort as comfortable as possible.”

  “Our bags?” said Jack.

  “Have already been taken care of, Mr. Stinson. Your transport is waiting for you.”

  “When do we get to see the ruins?” said Billie.

  The woman smiled. “Oh, I think we need to get you settled in after your trip. There will be someone at guest services who can answer all your questions and make all the arrangements. If you’d follow me, Mr. Stinson.”

  She led them to a low white transport, helped them into the back, and then climbed up front. A driver already sat waiting for them. He turned as they climbed in, smiled, and then turned back to the front. Of their bags there was no sign.

  Stella glanced back over her shoulder. “You’ll have a good view of the countryside and the resort itself when we get a little closer.”

  “Can we see the ruins from here?” said Billie. Jack narrowed his eyes at her to shut up, but Stella’s smile didn’t waver for an instant.

  “No, the ruins are actually some distance away,” she said. “But there’s plenty to see on the way in. If you’re lucky, we might get to see some of the local wildlife.”

  The “plenty to see on the way in” consisted of miles and miles of rolling, grass-covered hills and valleys. Off in the distance there was a semienthusiastic mountain range—nothing forbidding there. Looking around as they drove, Jack couldn’t quite work out what the attraction was. Maybe it was the simple exclusivity of the place. Of course, back in the days when travel between the stars took weeks and months, Mandala would have been more exclusive still, but now . . .

  The Mandala Country Club appeared as they crested a rise. Dark, low buildings clustered across one side of a valley. Several pools, gardens, a golf course, stables, they were all there. Jack felt a growing sense of trepidation. They didn’t belong here. It would be so easy just to give everything away. What did he know about lifestyles of the rich and famous?

  They drove down the valley and pulled up in front of the main building. Stella climbed out and opened their door for them, standing back to let them approach the front doors. The main building was a little taller than the others that clustered around. Dark wooden pillars flanked a simple glassed door. There were no signs, nothing to announce what the place was. Jack presumed they didn’t need it. Twin lines of large potted plants led up to the doorway. He could smell the vegetation, the clean earth and air. It was different from the recycled atmosphere of Yorkstone, the ships, the terminals. It was fresh. An undercurrent of something sharp, indefinable, sat beneath the cleanness—something he couldn’t identify. Probably something to do with the alien atmosphere. Just inside, a slim young man with dark hair, also decked out in the resort’s colors, met them and ferried them to the front desk.

  Another smile greeted them. “Mr. Stinson. Susan. Welcome to the Mandala Country Club. If you have any needs during your stay above and beyond what is provided with your residential facilities, please don’t hesitate to contact me. Here at the Mandala Country Club, service is our watchword. We have prepared the Kalama residence for your stay. Hopefully it will be to your liking. If there are any problems with it, or it’s not completely to your liking, again, please don’t hesitate to call me immediately. My name is Stefan. Markus here will show you to the residence.”

  Jack glanced around to see a young man, blond, with fine, tanned features, who had appeared behind them as if out of nowhere. He too smiled and nodded.

  Stefan continued. “A couple of points before you see your accommodations. Dining is available at the City of Trees Restaurant, twenty hours a day. Of course, Mandala has a twenty-hour day, so it’s open all the time. I guess you could say it was open twenty/nine, because of course we operate a nine-day week. Is there anything else I can do to help you before Markus shows you the way?”

  Billie opened her mouth, but Jack grabbed her shoulder and she quickly shut it.

  “No, that’s fine,” said Jack. “We’ve had a long trip. I think we’ll just go to our rooms.”

  “Of course, Mr. Stinson. Markus, would you show Mr. Stinson and his niece to Kalama, please? Markus will look after you now.”

  Markus held out a hand, indicating the way.

  Jack nodded and smiled, taking Billie by the upper arm and leading her in the direction that the young man had indicated. Jack was feeling even more uncomfortable, right out of his depth, but he tried to retain his composure. They were led down another path flanked by thick vegetation, past a glassed-in dining area that Jack assumed was the City of Trees Restaurant, and farther to a small wooden building, looking more like a cabin than anything else.

  The young man called Markus flashed something and the door opened.

  “The door is now keyed to you and your niece, Mr. Stinson. It will only open to you.” He stood back, letting them enter.

  Inside, the cabin was much more than a cabin. Modern chairs sat around a wide glass table in a central room. Broad windows looked out over the low rolling slopes stretching out in front of the resort complex. A plush couch and lounge chairs sat to one side. One complete wall was blank. Jack assumed it was their personal system for the duration of their stay. Several doors led off from the central room. One by one, Markus walked from door to door, opening them and standing back for Jack and Billie to inspect the rooms. One held a kitchen unit, another a bathroom, all marbled with gold taps, still another bedroom, yet another bedroom, an office area. Jack’s luggage was already sitting in one of the bedrooms, Billie’s in the other.

  “Can I get you anything, Mr. Stinson? A drink? Something to eat?”

  “No, that’s fine, Markus. Thanks.”

  “If you would like to change the room choice we have made for you, I can shift your luggage now.”

  “No, that’s fine,” said Jack.

  The young man dipped his head and withdrew. There was no tipping at the Mandala Country Club.

  Jack stood in the center of the main room and looked around, slowly shaking his head. Billie was going from room to room, touching things, opening cupboards, playing with control panels.

  “Billie, cut it out for a minute, will you, and come here.”

  She came and stood with him, then glanced out of the windows. “Wow! Look at that.”

  Jack turned to see what had prompted such a reaction. With slow, stately grace, a pair of peacocks was strutting past the window, their iridescent plumage shining in the bright afternoon light. Jack watched them walk past, his jaw half open. Peacocks? He hadn’t seen peacocks for years, and that was back on Earth, off in some zoo complex he’d visited d
uring some foreign mission. It had been pretty close to the hotel they’d been staying at, and all he could really remember was how they’d kept him up at night with those damned cries of theirs. What it must have cost to ship them out here . . . Billie had her face pressed up against the glass, her hands spread on either side as she watched the birds disappear from view. Slowly she turned around.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “They were beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” said Jack, walking over to the control screen to see what their options were. Billie had gone back to the window and was pressed up against it again, watching the outside.

  The door chimed.

  “Enter,” said Jack.

  Markus was back, bearing in one hand a tray of exotic fruits which he proceeded to place on the table’s center.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you, Mr. Stinson?” he said, sounding a little as though he was actually failing his guests by not being able to help them.

  “No, that’s okay. Actually, wait. There is. Where can I find the information about excursions to the City of Trees?”

  “It’s all on your room system,” said Markus, “but we have qualified guides taking trips to the site twice daily. You will have your own guide. You can reserve the space through the room system. Would you like me to show you?”

  “No, that’s fine,” said Jack. “What do you mean, qualified guides?”

  “Well, most of the guides who work at the Mandala Country Club are archeologists, mainly doing postgraduate work. They come here from the university so they have an opportunity to be close to the ruins without necessarily being attached to the main archeological party. Of course if the party needs some extra work, then they’re available. It’s the sort of opportunity a lot of them can’t pass up. Many students take the option.”

  “Of course,” said Jack. “Very interesting. University?”

  “Yes, UBC. The University of Balance City. They’re the ones who specialize in the City of Trees, mainly. There’s been a team here for a couple of years now.”

  “Thanks,” said Jack. “That’s interesting.”

  “Of course, Mr. Stinson.” Seeing that there was nothing else, Markus ducked his head and withdrew.

  Billie had opened the double glass windows leading to a small patio and was standing outside, looking over the facilities. The light was starting to fade, but the temperature was still warm and comfortable. Jack sat at the table and called up the system to have a look at what options were available. After a couple of moments, he noticed something, something that didn’t seem quite right, and in the next instant, he realized what it was—the silence. Somewhere off across the grounds a peacock called, clear in the early evening air, but apart from that . . . Yorkstone, the Locality, they all had this underlying hum of activity, barely perceptible and deeply embedded in the back of the consciousness, so far that you didn’t even notice it. But now that it wasn’t there . . . Jack sat back and listened. So quiet. He’d forgotten what it was like.

  Before he’d moved to the Locality Jack had spent time in many and varied places, especially during his time in the military. Deserts were quiet. Tundra was quiet. Even the jungle was quiet, in its own way. When you were hundreds of miles away from civilization, you noticed it, whether on an operation or simply on maneuvers. This was like that. People paid for peace and quiet, as they called it, and just now he could see why. He followed Billie out onto the patio and just stood there listening.

  The next morning, they breakfasted in their room.

  Jack thought it better that they stay in the rooms as much as possible, but Billie wanted to try everything. The pool, though she’d never learned to swim—the stables, though she’d never learned to ride—even the golf course. He let her go, with the admonition that she should keep as quiet as she could about their background and their life. She had charged out of their cabin and disappeared without a word of argument. Meanwhile, Jack had occupied himself with the wealth of information on Mandala available through the hotel systems. There were lengthy guidebook-style articles on the City of Trees, pointing out particular features of note, detailing the history of the site’s discovery, and suggesting walking routes through the vast complex. Jack studied them, page after page. Certain areas were out of bounds. They were the subject of the archeological work being carried out by the UBC team. He noted those, then downloaded the walking maps to his handipad.

  He’d made the booking for their first trip just before Billie had left, with her standing behind his shoulder bouncing up and down. He needed to check the details. The system quickly confirmed the booking and flashed up details and a name. Their appointed guide was called Hervé.

  He looked at the time display, registering that Billie had been gone for a couple of hours. There wasn’t much she could get into trouble with, so he spent some time flicking through the various other infoscreens provided by the hotel. He had to keep in mind that their time was actually more limited, what with the shorter day. Hopefully they wouldn’t need too much time at the site for Jack to get what he needed, but there was no telling how and when his senses were likely to kick in. His sleep last night had been dreamless, when he’d finally managed to sleep, and there’d been nothing to tug at his subconscious workings since they’d been here.

  He killed the wall display and wandered over to the window to see if he could catch sight of Billie, but their cabin was facing away from the main complex, just as all the other cabins were. He glanced around at what he could see of the place, once again feeling strange about the whole thing. He almost felt dirty. How could people live like this? He turned away, shaking his head.

  “Jack!” Billie was standing in the doorway, looking slightly out of breath. “The guide will be here soon. Aren’t you going to get ready?”

  He frowned and looked down at himself. He wore the same coat, trousers, and top that he’d had on yesterday. She was right. If they were going to be trekking around the ruins, he really ought to be wearing something a bit more appropriate. With a nod of acknowledgment he disappeared into his own bedroom to change into something more casual. He emerged just in time for the system to announce their guide’s arrival.

  Hervé was a young man with a deep olive complexion. The hotel greens failed miserably to cover the wide expanse of belly jutting out and barely covered in a white T-shirt beneath the jacket. A round jolly face seemingly stretched to its maximum beamed at them from the doorway.

  “Hello,” he said. “I am Hervé. I’m going to be your guide to the City of Trees. Mr. Stinson. Susan. I am right, aren’t I?” A clear accent marked his words.

  “Yes,” said Jack. “So tell me, Hervé. How far away is the site?”

  “It will take us about an hour to drive out there. I can assure you, the vehicle is very comfortable. It is, of course, air-conditioned. Have you got everything you need?” He looked them over and nodded, watching as Jack reached for his small travel bag. “It might be a good idea to take a bottle of water or two with you,” said Hervé. “It can get hot and dusty in the ruins and we will have some ways to walk.”

  “Will we be going anywhere near the archeologists?” said Billie.

  Hervé chuckled. “Well, no, it is not on our planned route, but I’ll see what we can do, eh?” He gave her a big wink. Billie grinned in return, then gave Jack a quick pointed glance. He nodded. Sometimes she knew exactly how to use what she had, the innate charm of a young girl. Just now and again, she played it for all it was worth.

  Hervé waddled out to the parking area, leading the way to one of the low white resort vehicles. He clambered up in front, leaning back in the seat, his arm draped across the back, thrusting his wide belly forward. He waited politely for Jack and Billie to get settled in the back, then turned around to talk to them.

  “I will give you some more information when we’re at the site, but I believe you’re going to find this a truly memorable experience. Just to see the City of Trees is a wonderful thing. It is such an important site.”
>
  Billie nodded enthusiastically.

  Jack chose the moment, just to verify what Markus had told them about the guides. “Hervé, are you an archeology student? The reason I ask is that one of the hotel staff said something about most of the guides here.”

  “Yes, it is true. I am working on some postdoctoral studies to do with the site. There is no better place to be close to the work, and of course, it helps to pay the bills, you know. We live pretty well here at the Mandala Country Club.”

  Jack settled back. “So I guess you can tell us quite a bit about the site, more than just the standard guidebook stuff. You know, about the theories to do with what it is and things like that.”

  “I will try,” said Hervé with another broad grin. He turned around and sparked the vehicle into life.

  All the way to the City of Trees, Hervé regaled them with anecdotes about various visitors to the resort. Billie seemed to lap it up, but quite frankly, Jack felt his interest waning and he tuned them out, turning to watch the landscape. He was more interested in what he was going to find at the ruins than whatever had happened in some playground for those who had too much money for their own good. They wound up through rocky outcroppings and then down the other side. Their vehicle rounded a bend, and there, at last, below them lay the site. Billie craned forward, trying to get a better view, and Jack found himself doing the same.

  The information pages back at the hotel had barely prepared him for the site itself. Thick, square structures, clumped in groups of four, reached up toward the sky, stretched across a wide expanse of plain. The tops were uneven. He had expected them to be level. Even at this distance, the dark mottled surfaces reached out to them with the uniformity, the evenness and vastness of the constructions themselves. It was immediately clear that this was nothing man-made. The simplicity and order spoke of a different kind of intelligence.