by Dom Testa
“Spider bay is clear, preparing to open outer door,” Roc said. “Oh, wait. Has everyone gone potty? I don’t want to have to stop this car again until we’re finished.”
“Roc, just open the door,” Gap said. He kept a straight face, but inside he appreciated the lighthearted air that the ship’s computer brought to the mission. Things were tense enough; Roc often brought just the right touch of wit to take the edge off.
Inside the pressurized Spider no sound could penetrate from the bay, but Gap and Mira watched wide-eyed through the window before them as the bay door slowly and silently rolled open. A spectacle of starlight danced through the widening breach. For a moment Gap had a frightening vision of a cluster of vultures swooping through, into the ship. But the feeling passed with the first jolt of movement that told him they were being shifted into launch position.
The Spider edged toward the opening, and soon the star field monopolized the view. They stopped at the very edge of the bay door.
“Final check complete,” Roc said. “Listen, one more thing before we sling you out into space. Good luck and all that, but if you don’t make it back, Gap, can I have your stamp collection?”
“I don’t have a stamp collection.”
“Well, then never mind. Hold on, kids, here we go.”
The Spider’s maneuvering jets flared to life, and the mechanical arm below the craft jerked it forward, through the opening, and into the void. Even though he had experienced this before, Gap found himself inhaling sharply, and heard Mira do the same. It was an involuntary reaction. Space blanketed them, and the immensity of it—and the majesty—was staggering. Billions of stars winked greetings, and yet the blackness between them was heavy and deep. Not for the first time, Gap felt humbled by it all, a reality check that placed humans and their meager creations into a truly cosmic perspective.
Jets fired from the port side and below, and the Spider nudged gently to the right and began to ascend Galahad. Gap keyed the radio. “Triana, you with us?”
Her voice spilled from the speaker immediately. “Right here.”
“We’re on our way. Just starting to make the climb. All systems are green and go.”
“Good,” Triana said. “How’s it look out there?”
“Magnificent. You should get out here more often.”
“Don’t have much time for joy rides these days,” she said with a laugh. “We’re monitoring from your front cameras; that’s gonna have to be good enough for now.”
The Spider edged up the side of the ship. “Keep your eyes peeled,” Gap muttered to Mira, who nodded mutely. Together they scanned the gray surface of Galahad, and the Spider’s camera system fed images to Roc, who for now controlled their ascent.
A minute later they crested the ship. To one side lay the massive domes, their interior light blazing through the panels and radiating into space. The Spider hung in place momentarily before spinning to approach the rear. The plan, laid out before their mission, called for a circuit of Galahad’s starboard side, beginning at the rear, and working around side and bottom. Then they would repeat the circuit on the port side. The final task would be the capture of the vulture attached to the dome.
With Roc guiding them initially, Gap had focused all of his attention on the search. Now he assumed control of the craft as they glided twenty feet above Galahad’s hull, calmly applying pressure to maintain a consistent velocity. Mira leaned forward and touched the control panel, activating twin searchlights and concentrating their beams onto the metallic gray surface of the ship below them.
Several minutes passed in silence. They had worked across the top and barely begun to drop over the back side of the ship when Mira uttered a cry. “Wait, wait. Hold up.”
Gap throttled back and peered through the window. “What do you see?”
Mira pointed to a spot just a few feet over the edge. There, attached to the back side of the spacecraft, was a dark, triangular shape, roughly two feet wide. Gap nudged the controls of the Spider, and brought them a little closer.
“Triana, are you getting this?” he said.
“Yes, we see it,” she said. “Are those wings tucked up to the side?”
Gap studied the vulture. “I think so. That would explain why it appears smaller now. And…”
There was silence for a moment before Triana prompted him. “Yes?”
“Well,” he said, “I wouldn’t call it breathing, but there’s some kind of movement going on. Roc, what would you call that?”
“It looks like it’s venting,” the computer said. “Those rectangular slits around the circumference; they’re opening and closing in a sort of rhythm. Doesn’t appear to have a particular pattern that I can discern right now, but … hmm.”
“Hmm?” Triana said. “What is it?”
“I’m just disappointed that I so quickly jumped to a conclusion. I automatically assumed that the vulture might be venting something out into space. But it could just as easily be absorbing something from space. Or doing both, I suppose.”
“I’m going to move a little closer,” Gap said. He deftly adjusted the controls of the Spider and dropped to within ten feet, which allowed him to take stock of the vulture. It was jet-black, with a strange ribbed effect that reminded Gap of a kite. It was roughly triangular in shape, its surface pebbled. Folded along the sides were two extensions that resembled wings.
Mira pointed again. “It’s emitting some kind of light.”
Gap studied the alien entity. “She’s right,” he said to Triana. “Are the cameras picking that up? Up there by the … I guess you’d call that the head. Do you see that?”
As they watched, a soft, blue-green glow seeped from one corner of the vulture, lightly at first, then briefly picking up intensity before fading again. To Gap, it almost seemed like an eye opening and closing. He felt a shudder ripple through him.
Roc’s voice piped through. “A little more data is coming in now. Other than those brief flashes of visible light, it’s not putting out any heat or radiation, which is very odd, and makes me question whether it’s alive. But even a machine gives off something. Well, the machines we’re used to, anyway. There are sixteen vents across the surface, and I was correct, of course, about the lack of any pattern to their opening and closing. A few of them seem to be fairly active, a few others less so, and two have only opened once so far.”
“Any idea about how it’s holding on to the ship?” Triana said. “Could it be magnetic?”
“No way of knowing until we get one inside,” Roc said. “But I’m not picking up on anything magnetic, unless you count my personality.”
“Of course,” Triana said.
“Should I poke at it with one of the Spider’s arms?” Gap said.
“I’m sorry,” Roc said, “but did you just ask if you could poke at it?”
He could hear Triana chuckle through the speaker. “You are such a boy. This is not some frog that you’ve found in a creek. Let’s wait until you get to the one on the dome. Let’s go look for the others.”
Gap took one last look at the vulture, then gently lifted the Spider away and began to guide it down the back of Galahad. Within a few minutes they had reached the ship’s lower side. Mira adjusted the spotlights to give them a clear view in their search.
“Ugh, I don’t know why, but I hope we don’t find any down here,” Gap said. “I don’t like the idea of these things clamped onto the ship’s underbelly.”
The words had barely escaped his mouth when Mira spoke up. “Sorry. Two of them dead ahead.”
They were within a few feet of each other. As Gap drew the Spider close, he could see the methodic opening and closing of their vents, and an occasional blue-green glow. Although sound waves did not carry through the vacuum of space, he could almost imagine a sort of electrical hum that might accompany the light. Something about the motion and light—without the soundtrack that humans were used to—added to the creepy feeling as he watched.
He noticed something
else as well. The combination of movement and light, executed in such a relaxed manner, was almost hypnotic. Gap found himself drawn in, his hands resting limply on the Spider’s controls, his face slack. The vultures, meanwhile, behaved as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if they had been clamped onto this particular starship for years, oblivious to the artificial craft hovering mere feet away.
But were they artificial? Gap punched up the link to the twin cameras on his vidscreen and zoomed in. He swept across the backs of the vultures, looking for anything that might indicate if they were alive, or merely drones. And yet, he realized, how could he—or anyone else with only Earth-bound experience—know what forms life might take in the universe? The Cassini had taught them that.
Triana’s voice came from the speaker. “I can’t tell any difference between these two and the first one. Roc, are you picking up anything new?”
“Very slight variation in size, but negligible. Comparisons of the vent activities are processing right now, but don’t appear to have any connection. Same with the light emissions; no pattern that I can make out.”
“Could they be talking to each other?” Mira asked.
“We can’t rule that out,” Roc said.
After a few minutes observing the two specimens from different angles, Gap pulled the Spider away and continued the search. Forty minutes later they had discovered three more vultures on the port side: one on the top, one on the back, and one on the bottom. They each exhibited identical characteristics as the first three, with one exception.
“Now why do you suppose the light from this one is constant?” Gap mused aloud. The Spider hovered above the lone vulture attached to the top of Galahad’s port side. “The others were slowly winking, and this one has a steady glow to it.”
“Maybe it’s a short in the wiring,” Roc said. “We should shake it.”
Triana said, “You know what I’m thinking? This one might be the leader of the pack.”
“A squadron leader,” Roc said. “Here we go with the fighter pilots again.”
“And,” Triana continued, “if that’s the case, then the light probably does signify some form of communication, just like Mira suggested. Maybe the other six stay in contact with this one.”
“And, if that’s true, I wonder if this guy is in touch with a mother ship somewhere,” Gap said. There was silence as this sank in.
Mira looked thoughtful. “Well, if this one is the captain, should we maybe try to snag it and leave the one on the dome?”
“No,” Triana said after pausing to think. “We don’t know anything for sure, so let’s stick with the original plan. Besides, I’m still nervous about that thing attached to the dome. We’re much more vulnerable there than on the hull.”
“Plus, who knows how the others might react if we kidnap the boss,” Gap added. “I think we’re finished here. It’s time to go catch a vulture.”
He pulled back on the Spider’s controls and spun the small craft in a 180-degree turn. The bright lights of Galahad’s twin domes loomed up ahead, beckoning. As they crept closer, a pale shade of green bled through, and shadows played against the clear panels. When the distance had closed to about one hundred feet, Mira looked at Gap and raised her eyebrows.
“You see it?”
She turned her attention back to the crest of the dome and Gap followed her gaze. There, a sinister dark outline emerged, like a bird-shaped hole in the plate. Gap felt a shiver steal through his body and at the same time heard a small sigh escape from Mira. They both understood that their role as silent observers had come to an end; they were about to become the first human beings to ever make physical contact with an extraterrestrial organism.
There was no way of knowing how that organism would react.
Triana’s voice came through. “Let’s do this in stages. Start with the same distance you hovered above the others. Then move in closer, and let’s see how it reacts to something invading its space. If there’s no movement, we’ll proceed with the capture.”
“We’re still assuming that we’re capturing it, right?” Gap murmured as the Spider’s lights coated the vulture.
“I hope so,” Roc piped in. “We can’t afford to lose another Spider.”
“Thanks,” Gap said. He adjusted their speed and piloted the small craft to a spot fifteen feet above the panels. “Roc,” he said, “let’s bring down the lighting in both domes thirty percent. The glare is a little tough to handle out here.”
“I’ll make an announcement,” Triana said. “I don’t want to freak out the people working up there right now.”
Two minutes later the radiance dimmed. “Um … just a touch more,” Gap said. “There, that’s good.” He looked at the image of the vulture displayed on the vidscreen. “Is it me, or is this one a little smaller?”
“Good eye,” Roc said. “Just under two feet in width. That’s with wings folded, of course.”
“A baby,” Mira said with a smile.
“Same venting, same oscillating glow,” Roc added.
“I’m taking us closer,” Gap said. With a nudge he soon had the Spider within six feet. Everyone remained silent for a full minute, waiting and watching for any response from the vulture.
“Sheesh, does it even know we’re here?” Gap said.
“These things began tracking us when we were hundreds of thousands of miles out,” Triana said grimly. “I’m pretty sure it knows exactly where you are.”
“The light pattern has changed,” Roc said. “Barely noticeable, but definitely a different cadence and tempo.”
“It’s bound to be as curious about us as we are about it,” Mira said. She turned to look at Gap. “It’s probably asking for instructions.”
“I say we don’t wait around for it to get an answer,” Gap said, and wiped a sweaty palm on his pants leg. “Tree, you ready for us to pick it up?”
She let out a long breath. “Okay, go ahead.”
Gap brought the Spider into a better position, level with the vulture, so that he and Mira could see it through their forward window. At a distance of about five feet he nodded to Mira. She tapped instructions into the panel before her, and then leaned forward and inserted her hands into the glovelike controls. With a combination of fluid movements, two of the forward arms of the Spider unfolded and stretched out toward the vulture. Mira deftly maneuvered them within inches before bringing them to a stop.
As he watched, Gap felt a trickle of sweat work down his forehead. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get the box.”
He spun in his chair and engaged the controls of another of the Spider’s arms. It held the polyglass container that they hoped would carry their target aboard the ship. It would also provide a spacelike environment, including a vacuum. He grunted as the arm jerked toward the vulture.
“I’m glad you’ve got the spatula,” he said to Mira. “You’re much smoother with these things than I am.”
A moment later he had the box in position. He let go of the arm control and began to input new instructions on his keyboard. With a glance through the window he watched the door of the container silently slide open.
“Okay,” he said. “She’s all yours.”
He was strangely relieved when, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Mira rub the back of one hand across her forehead before settling back against the controls. They both heard Triana issue a subdued, “Good luck.”
The claw hand on one arm of the Spider spread apart, then inched slowly toward the dark figure that clung to the dome. Gap leaned forward and watched as it made contact, and stopped. Mira released some pressure on the controls, then picked it up again. The claw pressed against the vulture, but seemed unable to budge it.
“Umm…” Mira said. “How hard do I want to push on this thing?”
Gap thought about it. “Well, we don’t want to damage it. But we have to pry it off somehow. Go ahead and push a little more, see if you can’t slide that hand under it.”
Mira nodded, and squeezed the
controls again. The Spider’s arm again made contact, but seemed to get nowhere.
Triana spoke up. “Try using both arms, Mira. Maybe you can pry an edge up just enough to slide the other claw under there.”
“Okay,” Mira said. With her other hand she guided the second arm into position, then rotated its claw and brought it down gently against one edge of the vulture. She gritted her teeth. “I think it’s going to be tricky trying to get a grip.”
It happened in a flash. There was a quick flare of blue-green light as the vulture sprang from Galahad’s dome and shot up against the windshield of the Spider. Mira let out a scream and jumped back from the controls, while Gap simultaneously shouted and threw himself backward. They both disconnected their safety harnesses and scrambled out of their seats, retreating several feet into the interior of the Spider, panting heavily. The vulture’s wings had unfurled as it bolted from the dome, creating a terrifying image as it smashed up against the small craft. Now, as Gap and Mira turned back to watch, the wings slowly retracted as the alien entity settled into position and immediately fell still.
Triana’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Gap, Mira, are you guys okay?”
“Oh … my…” Mira sobbed, clutching her chest. “I think I just about had a heart attack.”
Gap swallowed hard, and then reflexively laughed. He called out to the intercom. “Yeah, we’re okay. We both just aged about five years in one second. I take it you saw what just happened.”
“Incredible,” Triana said. “I can’t believe how fast it moved.”
Now Mira laughed, too, as the adrenaline rush subsided. “You’re telling us. You should see what it’s like coming at your face.”
Moving cautiously, Gap approached the windshield to inspect the vulture that now gripped the Spider. He reached out to lean against the back of his pilot’s seat, then leaned forward to get a better look.
“I don’t know if you can see it very well,” he said to Triana. “I’ll tell you this, though; the view from this angle is very different than the view from above.”
“We’re getting a shot now,” Triana replied. “But describe it.”