The Man Who Talked to Suns

by Stephen Andrews

  While he fought to maintain self-control he noticed that the vehicle’s consciousness had shifted to the edge of his awareness. His own predicament was taking his attention, but this moving of presence signalled a more fundamental alteration in the mental connection with the machine. The vehicle was using a good deal of its thinking faculties somewhere else. Like a partner who loses interest in a conversation, so the vehicle had shifted its mental attention elsewhere. He guessed it was negotiating intensely with the forces of this world.

  A second dimensional blast made him cry out. He felt the world rotate. Its spinning became a force suddenly present in his consciousness. He could feel the world’s mass, and feel it moving through space. It was as if gravity had lost hold on his inner ear. The speed and power he sensed dwarfed anything he had felt before. The experience was paralysing and awe inspiring. People were not equipped to feel their true place in the universe. Each individual had themselves at its centre, always — a fiction that kept people sane and functioning. When sudden objectivity was imposed, the brain reeled. To sense all this weight and speed crushed the ego and spun the senses. A powerful desire to return to the ground bubbled up. Surely that would calm his addled sense of motion. In less stressful times the vehicle would have sensed this desire and offered a course of action, but in this moment it communicated nothing.

  And then it all stopped. Just as suddenly as the rules of the physical world had become liquid and negotiable, they settled back into familiar patterns. Down was towards the centre of the world once more, and he was moving up and away from it. The upward movement was slower than before, much slower, but it was reassuringly in the right direction. He attempted to contact the vehicle, and found its attention was still diverted. It was only then, as his senses enjoyed the deliciously familiar notions of up and down, that he noticed his suit had sent an alert. He had missed the feeling it sent; the fear signal was hidden by his own natural fear as the world twisted about him. Now he saw the threat warning display on the optics. A line and distance marker indicated a contact. Something had moved, fast and precise, at the edge of perception. The alert was tempered with uncertainty. The suit had been disoriented too and it communicated its own confusion. It could not be sure if it had detected a new object or created a mirage from the shifts and eddies of physical laws in flux.

  Whatever the truth he could not ignore the possibility of an attack. Anything striking him now would find him nearly immobile and with no hope of reaching cover. He could not give away the element of surprise as well as speed. He released an active sensory sweep, utilising the full range of aural and visual enhancers, adding pulsing waves of sound and light in spectra outside of a human’s range. For the briefest of moments the world around him flashed into virtually enhanced colour and sound. The greys, greens and browns were overlaid with vivid colours as his suit processed the hi-resolution blast of information that echoed back to it. There was little that could harm him and hide from such extreme reconnaissance. The world around him lit up as if a sun itself had moved close to examine the surface.

  The transmission of energy would enhance his view of the world vividly, but it could also be seen by others. To an enemy with similar capabilities the burst of radiation and sound would explode into vision like a firework in the dark. A human’s mind might miss it, but the minds of machines built for attack would not. That instant was more than enough to locate identify and target precisely. It was another risk. He was piling them up, risk on risk, but he had little choice. Options were being exhausted simply because of the duration of his journey and the absence of any contact with pursuers. Not for the first time in the last few days, he wondered if he was being played by an enemy who had considered scenarios he had not.

  He reviewed the data. Nothing showed. He checked the suit’s reasoning, overlaid his own mix of sensory inputs, and looked for points or patterns that betrayed something unnatural. There was nothing unusual. He was simply presented with a multi-channel confirmation of the world as he saw it. A curse escaped his lips, followed by a sigh. Perhaps attempting this ascent was a mistake. Perhaps a less ambitious plan might have been better. He was currently dangling like an insect glued to a thin line; just like the bait used to tempt flying crabs out of hiding when he was a boy. He had not imagined the climb would make him feel so vulnerable or challenge his sense of reality so thoroughly. The thoughts of bait that crept into his mind did not help his mood. He wanted to go back. He had felt safe closer to the ground.

  He sent an urgent, pointed message to the vehicle, and felt it release a little of itself to communicate with him. It had been tracking his thoughts even while it refused to respond to them. The sluggish response offered in words was clear.

  “We cannot descend. The disorientation you felt was the result of a negotiation that succeeded. It cannot be undone immediately. I would… lose credibility with the world’s gravity, and then I could not function. I must focus on our planned course of action. It is still possible. Have confidence and patience. Please do not disturb me again until the task is complete.”

  He was trapped. For a moment he considered jumping. The suit was designed to protect against violent impact, and it could shield his body at speeds that would shatter the bones of an unprotected man. He glanced down and estimated the distance. It was a long way; they must be over half way to the plateau. He queried the suit, seeking its view of the consequences of a jump. What it returned made him frown and slump forward. At this height the chances were high that he would suffer a serious fracture, possibly a fatal one, and there was also a high chance of critical damage to the suit. There was no going back.

  Worry built with each upward movement, and a feeling of total vulnerability swept over him. They were high enough for him to view the tops of some of the smaller mesas, and he could not help but see them as vantage points from which an attack could be made. He used the optics to bring the view close, scrutinising the nearest miniature peaks. Sensitive artificial irises flashed though wavelengths that human eyes could not detect. Still nothing registered as a threat. In the course of the search, they had left the protecting lee of the target mesa, and now strong wind buffeted him. The vehicle’s path must have changed to a spiral or perhaps the wind had changed direction. The atmosphere tugged at him, forcing him to clutch the vehicle with his thighs. The cloud ceiling had dropped and the lowest clouds brushed the top of the mesa they climbed. The ascent and the unfriendly weather added to his bleak mood. It seemed as if each sense was being offered stimulation designed to undermine his determination.

  Had had expected more twisted realities to buffet him, but there had been none, and the top of the mesa was closer now. Perhaps the vehicle had made the negotiation it needed and only time separated them from a welcome end to the climb. He felt as if he was in transit again, moments stretching while perception remained acute. He had been continuously scanning, looking out and up and down, and the intense use of sensory enhancers was stretching his brain’s capacity to process information again. A throbbing headache had developed and he let the suit release pain killers. As the edge of the pain began to fade he was jolted by a severe blast of wind. It came from an unexpected direction — from his right — the side that flanked the mesa. Only the lighting fast reaction of his suit saved him from being blown off the vehicle, by instantly locking his legs in place. He turned to see how such a violent movement of atmosphere could emerge from the rock, and instead of grey rock meeting his gaze, he looked out onto a flat plateau and racing open sky. They had reached the top.

  Chapter 8.

  The vehicle drifted sideways. For the first time in too long there was solid ground underneath. The vehicle gently slid them away from the vertiginous climb and over the top of the mesa. Wind howled around them, powerful and assertive, but it did not change the vehicle’s course or speed. It kept moving at walking pace, towards the centre of the plateau. He jumped from the craft and landed on rock dotted with rain filled puddles and small pools. He had been sitting fo
r long enough, and wanted to move cramped legs. He did not know if he eased the vehicles burden by removing his weight, but he felt that it could not possibly increase it. He walked in a half crouch, surveying the surroundings and probing the clouds for hidden enemies. As they moved from the edge, all sight of the other mesas and the ground below vanished. Their world was now this plateau and the clouds; they were hidden from observation by anything not also on the plateau or drifting above it. They had achieved their goal and found a place to rest and defend.

  He shadowed the vehicle as it moved gingerly inwards. He imagined the slow pace indicated its fatigue, or perhaps it was a consequence of the negotiation that got them here. It reminded him of a wounded animal and he felt pity for it. It tracked a path between rain filled pools as deep as a man’s waist and then with no warning it stopped, gently let itself make contact with the ground and ceased communicating. There was no farewell, no indication of its status. It simply stopped. After regarding it for a moment and touching it sentimentally, he moved away to prepare his defence. Now it is my responsibility to protect us both he thought.

  He reached down and popped open a pouch on his leg. It contained several disk like shapes, each the size of a large coin. They would be his eyes and ears to the ground. Holding one between his thumb and forefinger he squeezed gently. The reward was a squirming motion from within that pushed against his fingers like an insect wriggling to escape. After a moment the movement stopped and he felt a tiny new consciousness synch with his suit and his mind. Good, it worked. He balanced the new ally on top of his thumb and flipped it into the air. It made one somersault then righted itself and flashed out towards the periphery of the mesa, where it stopped and settled. The link activated and now he could see down and out across a segment of the plain of giant’s teeth. More little allies were sent on their way and soon he had a three hundred and sixty degree view of the land around. Nothing could approach now without him sensing it.

  With the sentries set he looked for a place for himself. He wanted to be away from the vehicle so a single attack could not destroy them both. Exploring the flattened plateau, he found a pool of deep rainwater and slipped into it. The hole let him shelter and the water would provide some small additional protection from attack. A weapon would spend a little time boiling it away or pushing through it before reaching him; the liquid gave him micro-seconds of advantage. He wrinkled his nose — the quality of air had changed. The breather in the suit had activated and was now processing oxygen from the water. He set the weapons to snap-fire again, ordered the sentries to maximum sensitivity and auto-alert, and ordered a liquid stimulant from the suit. Settling into a comfortable position he began the wait.

  Around him a tiny eco-system was adjusting to the new alien presence. He saw small shrimp like creatures brazenly testing the suit to see if it was edible, and noticed the patchwork of red-brown flat worms that populated the water line. Each sent a tiny tube probing into the air, searching for what, he wondered? He absent mindedly asked the guide patch to search for more information about this world, and was reminded that that part of him was gone. Whatever humanity knew about these little lives was hidden from him, at least until he found his people again. The thought of the rendezvous brought a smile twitching to his face. Not long now. Two days of travel and he would be reunited. He wondered who they would send? Who was still alive? Was anyone he had known still free and able to make a journey unmolested?

  The world in the pool continued its existence as he waited. Occasionally he actively interrogated the sentries and his suits sensors, looking for things they might have missed. The story was always the same in whatever way he chose to read it; this world continued its moist, windswept existence untroubled by his presence, and revealing nothing of those who might seek him. Was it possible that the attack on the ship was their only attempt? Had they been so sure of his vulnerability in transit that failure was unthinkable? How much did they know of his intentions and mission? Possibly more than he did. He did not know what the rendezvous would bring, except contact with his people again and, he was assured, a part in freeing them. Flight had kept him safe so he could return as a tool of just revenge, but he did not know exactly how his skills would be deployed.

  The morning passed and afternoon came. The sky above was a lighter grey and occasionally the clouds turned white. At one point the sun broke through, and to his amazement the pool exploded into a manic swarm of life as each creature sought to capture some its radiance. The flat worms instantly blossomed fronds from the tubes above the water and the shrimps shot to the surface, spreading wing like structures. It looked like the inhabitants of the pool were soaking up as much radiation as they could in the moments when their sun showed itself. The rain pool carnival lasted for brief moments before the sun was hidden behind cloud again, and as he marvelled at the display a familiar presence sought him out.

  “I am ready” it said. “Shall we proceed?”

  The message was accompanied by a feeling of wellbeing and a greater sense of self from the vehicle. He allowed himself a brief conversation before leaving. It had indeed reached its limits of endurance during the climb — both mental and physical — but there was a reward. Its successful negotiation with the world had sharpened its abilities and for a few moments it had been in direct contact with the local sun. The pleasure it derived from that encounter was palpable. If it truly felt something then the feeling it radiated now was pride. It was ready to descend and eager to do so. There would be no dislocations on the way down. It would be a smooth, swift descent, followed by a return to the high velocity slalom that had kept them safe thus far. Was that actually excitement it projected, or was it his own? Either was very welcome; it nourished them both. He sprung from the pool and was met by the vehicle. Without hesitation he leapt on and they accelerated towards the lip of the plateau and out over the edge. This time they did not move vertically, they spiralled downwards mimicking the path of a winding staircase. There was no hesitation, no nauseating dislocations. There was pure constant helter-skelter speed, and yes, excitement.

  They flowed again, lines and curves linking into a peerless navigation between mesas. Savage banking and changes of direction defied the limits of un-enhanced human reaction and unprotected human endurance. He had left the little sentries behind to keep watch as long as their lives and communications range would do so. His defensive systems showed nothing to concern him. Two days of this would be exhilarating. Now they were back to full functioning he was almost beginning to regret that it must end.

  The heady pace continued for half a day more until a sudden change in the landscape challenged the pattern they had fallen into. It first appeared as a misty lozenge, hazy with distance and subtly separated from the surrounding colours by a gentle shift in tone. Although distant there was no mistaking the landmark; a fallen mesa blocked the path ahead. As they hurtled towards it, form and shape emerged. The massive rock had clearly fallen and shattered as it met the ground. Great sections of it had separated and rolled across the landscape but the outline was clear; a fallen tree trunk shape on a scale that no tree had ever achieved.

  He knew this change would come. In fact he had been searching for it since mid-morning. It was the first sign of the new landscape that signalled his rendezvous was close. He plotted a course around the fallen giant and noticed others in the distance. The mix of fallen and still upright mesas created a new maze of horizontal vectors. They were no problem to navigate and no more of a defensive headache than the changing lines of sight offered by the uprights. The map in his memory told him that this would be a temporary new environment. Soon the mesas would disappear altogether and he would be on a rolling plain devoid of interrupting stalagmites. Then ground hugging speed would be his primary defensive tactic, replacing the sprint and manoeuvre of the last few days. If he was truly on course his allies were less than a day away now and he would speed to them.

  The mesas thinned, both upright and fallen, until the view ahead was clea
r of them. Now there was the rolling tundra and low vegetation, and howling wind and rain. The elements were as free as he was and joined him in reverie. He was travelling fast and low, occasionally cropping the top of some unfortunate plant, obliterating it in an explosion of pulp with the toe of a boot or the front of the vehicle. He did not know if there was a limit to the vehicle’s speed but it was travelling fast now, even by the standards it had previously set. Was there a slight edge of worry or urgency in its pace? He had indicated speed and that was what it had delivered, but really, was this necessary?

  It was. The first contact came as the thought left his head. The cold, humid atmosphere around them boiled and turned to super-heated steam, the moist ground below turning into an improbable inferno of combusting vegetation that tracked forward with the vehicle’s path. He felt the heat even through the suit’s multiple protecting layers. In the same instant all the weapons on the vehicle and his suit locked targets and released. Warning receivers sent urgent messages, and markers appeared on the optics indicating contacts. The vehicle did not wait for a command; it jinked violently and suddenly and did something that seemed to relocate them by suspending the laws of momentum. The evasive manoeuvre worked momentarily, he could see weapons incinerating empty air and harmless landscape, and then they found their target and he was at the centre of attack again.

  There were at least six attackers, possibly more. Each of them focussed their murderous intent on him, and each moved in fast random vectors at the edge of perception, like insects avoiding a swatter. He could not tell what they were, but the vehicle knew they were small and fast and well-armed. It also knew they were not of its kind. They were formidable, and many but they had chosen a foe that few were asked to confront openly. He thought of attack but there was a pressing need to repel the attention of the weapons focussed on him. Only the suit had kept him from boiling in an instant, and while it continued to divert and absorb the energy of attack it could not do so indefinitely. Heat was leaking in and he felt a growing discomfort. Sweat broke out and breath came in heated gasps, he had moments before his flesh began to cook.