The Sunspacers Trilogy

by George Zebrowski

  Lissa waited. The message appeared on the screen, superimposed across the black moon:

  TAKING OFF NOW. SHIP BADLY DAMAGED. IF YOU SEE TAKEOFF, PICK ME UP IN HIGH ORBIT. CAN’T BE SURE THIS MESSAGE WILL GET THROUGH.

  A lonely flash appeared on the black hemisphere, and stayed lit. The shuttle was rising on its nuclear engines, burning bright in the screen’s infrared sensors. Drones fed in views from different angles.

  Lissa tensed, watching the screen, unable to believe what she was seeing. Alek was alive and on his way back.

  After a few minutes, the brightness blossomed and disappeared.

  “The shuttle’s exploded!” the technician shouted as the drones converged on the craft’s last position. Telescopic scanners pulled in toward the point high over the black moon where the explosion had registered, but there was nothing to be seen.

  Lissa grasped the rail supports with both hands and pulled herself to her feet.No, no, no, she repeated, realizing that Alek had worked all this time to repair the downed shuttle, and had used his takeoff burn to signal his position, hoping to be picked up before the shuttle failed. His radio had been damaged, so he had rigged an old-style radio transmitter, good enough to send dots and dashes.

  Now he was gone for sure, blown to pieces when the shuttle’s damaged engine had overheated.

  Drone eyes searched the volume of space, pulling in closer and closer. Suddenly she saw a spacesuited figure tumbling against the stars.

  “Alek,” she whispered in shock, realizing that he was probably dead. It might not even be Alek, but his copilot. She waited, hoping to glimpse another figure in the void, but there was no one else.

  “Shuttle launched,” she heard the technician say in the pit. “Pickup in less than an hour at charted position. Recalling all drones.”

  The waiting was endless. One by one the large screen lost its inputs from the drones, until finally only the picture of the spacesuited figure remained, tumbling high above the black moon.

  “Have you tried getting the pilot on the suit’s radio?” Lissa called down to the technician.

  “Of course. No answer.”

  She looked around the gallery. The empty chairs seemed to be waiting with her. She felt lonely and cold. The man below seemed to be doing a routine job. More important things were happening in the tachyon project control room.The expedition to the borderlands of Sunspace would be a success, leading to consequences vastly more significant than the lives of two shuttle pilots. It wasn’t fair; it was only the way things had happened. If it had been another shuttle, another pilot, then she would have been in the other gallery, listening to the stars speak. There was no way, she realized, that the excitement around her would drive out her feelings for Alek. She would have to accept that fact and cope as best she could.

  The tumbling figure disappeared for a moment, then reappeared.

  “They’re very close now,” the technician said. “The rescue craft has the pilot on its scope.”

  Lissa watched the turning figure, trying to catch some sign of life in the bulky limbs, but there was nothing except the slow turning of head over heels.

  “Be alive!” she whispered through clenched teeth, surprised by her own vehemence. She felt her face relax, certain that the suited figure, whoever it was, could not be alive.

  “They’re coming close now,” the technician said excitedly, surprising her with the concern in his voice.

  Suited figures appeared at the edge of the screen, maneuvered toward the tumbling figure, and stopped it by grabbing its shoulders. Then they fired their jet packs and drifted off the screen, on their way back to the ship with the rescued pilot.

  “Who is it?” Lissa demanded, her voice echoing in the large chamber.

  The technician raised his hand impatiently. “They’ll know in a few minutes.”

  Time slowed. Her stomach collapsed into a rock. Soon her heart would stop.

  “They’re in the airlock. It’s cycling.”

  Lissa gulped air.

  “They’re inside.”

  Her pulse raced as time stopped.

  “They’ve got the helmet off.”

  Sweat ran into her eyes.

  “He’s alive,” the technician said softly.

  “Who?” Lissa screamed from the gallery. “For God’s sake, tell me!”

  “Just a moment,” the technician replied, holding up his hand again.

  “Well?” she demanded after a moment, waiting.

  “He’s not hurt at all,” the technician said, his voice breaking.

  “Who is he!”

  The man turned his chair around and looked up at her. She saw a middle-aged face with sunken eyes and a day’s growth of beard. She had never seen him before.

  “It’s Calder,” he said grimly, brushing back his disheveled black hair with his hand.

  Lissa let out a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry,” the technician said. “I thought you knew Pandasala Gbeho. She was one of our best pilots.” His tone was sad, and Lissa realized that he had expected her to know that it was Alek as soon as the rescued pilot had been identified as a male. “Pan was my best friend,” he added softly, then turned away and began to shut down the center. Lissa stared at his back for a moment, not knowing what she could say to him to express her sympathy for his loss. Finally, she retreated and went out into the passageway.

  She caught a glimpse of Alek as they brought him off the rescue shuttle. He was on a stretcher and she almost cried out at his paleness. But the medics weren’t taking any chances. They put him in the hospital and ran all kinds of tests. He was allowed visitors two days later.

  Lissa showed up early. Dr. Shastri was just coming out. He smiled as Lissa went in.

  She tried to look cheerful. Alek looked a bit surprised as she came up to the bed and caressed his face with her open hand.

  “Missed me a little?” he said, smiling.

  She swallowed hard and nodded. He pulled her to him and kissed her for a long time. “Never thought I’d get to do that again,” he whispered, holding her tenderly.

  She stood up after a moment and sat down in the chair by the bed. “Alek, what happened?”

  He shrugged. “Big piece of something went right through the ship. Pan was killed right away. It just took her head right off.”

  Lissa’s stomach lurched.

  “Do you want to hear this?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I want to know how it was for you.”

  “Well, after screaming a lot I managed to land. The debris strike happened during our landing approach to the base, but we drifted quite a ways off. Radio was out and every system was failing as I came down. The ship hit roughly. Pressure was down in the cabin and I had only my suit to rely on, but I set about trying to fix what I could. Mostly, it was the controls that were gone, so I knew if I could rig them back I might be able to take off again.” He smiled. “That took longer and was much harder than I thought. It took a lot of crawling around in the ship’s innards to find the connections. Those crawl spaces were not made for space suits.”

  “Were you afraid?”

  “Of course I was.” He closed his eyes, and Lissa saw sweat on his forehead. “I’ll be fine in a moment. Anyway, I got the crude version of the radio working, but I couldn’t be sure anyone would receive what I sent, since I couldn’t receive. I sent messages a few times, then took off, but the controls were completely unreliable. All the safeties were gone. I couldn’t be sure if the ship’s engines would hold up, since I had no way to know where the safety was on the throttle. The automatic programs had safeties, but they weren’t there to tell me if the engines were overheating. I got up into orbit, hoping they’d picked up my ascent burn on the infrared scanners, and went out the airlock about three minutes before she blew.”

  Lissa caught her breath repeatedly as she listened to Alek’s story, realizing just how close it had been, and how resourcefully he had performed in a harrowing situation.

  “I’ve told this a
few times already,” he said, “once for a recording. It was strange, drifting out there with the black moon nearby, and its big planet beyond, and the stars in all directions. I was all the humanity there was, all that was left, it seemed. The Sun was a far star, not very special at all.” He touched her hand. “I thought of you before I blacked out.”

  “I’m sorry, Alek,” she said. “I’m sorry I snubbed you when you joined the project. I’d like us to start again, if you want to. Maybe we can do better this time.”

  He smiled. “I knew that if only I could get back you’d know how you felt about me. So maybe it was worth it.”

  He was silent for a moment, and she knew that he was thinking of Pandasala.

  “So,” he said finally, “I hear you’ve had a bit of excitement here also. Dr. Shastri told me about it.”

  Lissa nodded. “It’s awesome. A whole section of the galaxy has lit up. We don’t know what they’re saying, but just to know there’s so much life out there, and that what are certainly very different civilizations are talking to each other, is a sign that one day we’ll also understand.”

  He was looking at her admiringly. “You’ll have a lot of work ahead of you.”

  She smiled and took his hand. “When will they let you out?” she asked eagerly.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I’ll come see you.”

  |Go to Table of Contents |

  20

  The next day was a Friday. Alek came up the road to Lissa’s barracks. She watched him from the window, admiring his stride, glad that he was alive and that they would be together.I’m getting brainless about him again , she thought distantly, but accepted her feelings. They were just as real as anything else important. There would never be another Alek. Together, they would just have to see how it would all work out, even if it didn’t.

  She turned from the window and hurried from the room. He was halfway to the barracks when she reached him.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she said.

  He smiled and took her hand, and they walked back the way he had come. They passed the kiosk and she led him across the grassy field to the alien drum. They sat down outside the fenced area.

  “Dr. Shastri thinks it’s a warning,” she said.

  “I know, he told me. What do you think?”

  “I think it is.”

  Alek gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Shastri says you’ve come up with a lot of ideas on your own.”

  “Sure, but other people also had them.”

  “But that’s just as good,” he insisted, “as long as you didn’t know what the others thought. Keep doing that and one day you’ll come up with stuff no one ever imagined.”

  She looked at him and saw suddenly how much faith he placed in her abilities. “Thanks,” she said.

  “What do you really think is going on?” he asked as she rested her head on his shoulder. “We know we’re not alone, but we can’t be sure of anything about the cultures out there.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking that it’s possible that the weeders and nurturers came to a compromise of some kind about up-and-coming civilizations. Advanced cultures may value the fresh viewpoints of new intelligences, but they don’t want the galaxies overcrowded and stripped of resources by a biological explosion, since that would destroy the very values of uniqueness and diversity that they prize. One species could colonize a whole galaxy and use its resources long before other new intelligences could evolve on those worlds where life is possible. That’s why the weeders decided to work on the prehistory of worlds where intelligence might develop, slowing development long before the actual appearance of mind and consciousness.”

  “Like family planning and birth control.”

  “Maybe even cosmic abortion at times,” she said, “if a species turns out to be psychotic. But I think that after intelligence establishes itself in a sunspace, it has a chance of outwitting the weeders. I think this was allowed for also. If a culture can rise to a certain point of sanity and knowledge, and doesn’t weed itself out, then it can overcome the outside weeding process.”

  Alek shook his head impatiently. “I don’t like something about all this. What right have they to judge anyone?”

  “Because they have to, Lissa replied. “Life is common, and the galaxy would fill up, denying others a chance. But civilizations get through the weeding sometimes.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “True. But I can’t help feeling that we were drawn out to the edges of our Sunspace so that we could think of all these things for ourselves, gently, without major cultural dislocations. We’ve learned nothing except what we have to know to go on to the next step. It’ll be a long, reasonable time before we learn what the tachyons are saying to each other, but all the while we’ll know that advanced cultures are out there, very different from each other, waiting for us to earn the maturity to be able to talk to them.”

  Alek sighed. “It’s serious business, and it may be very dangerous. Ours is not exactly a sane history.”

  “We haven’t had a major war in nearly a century,” she said, “but the real danger may come from the comets. We don’t know how long we might have, or how we’ll divert so many when they come Sunward. It may take all the resources, planning, and cooperation we have.”

  “Maybe it’ll never happen,” Alek said.

  “That’s possible. Maybe how we react to the comets will be our final test.”

  Alek was silent, holding her as they gazed at the alien object inside the fenced area. The ear from Earth was still pointed at the big drum, listening.

  “Funny,” Alek said suddenly. “You came out here to find aliens and you found me.”

  Lissa laughed. “At least I could understand what you were saying.”

  He looked at her critically. “Not completely, not right away.”

  She put her head back on his shoulder. “I wasn’t listening very carefully, I guess.”

  He leaned over and kissed her gently. She heard his heart beating as she embraced him. She listened, feeling herself begin to sing inside.

  “There’s Dr. Shastri,” Alek said.

  She looked up and saw the scientist following the fence around the alien artifact.

  “He doesn’t see us,” she said.

  “Of course he does,” Alek replied. “He’s just too polite to show it.” Alek lifted his arm and waved. Dr. Shastri started toward them. “See, I told you.”

  They started to get up as he drew near. “No, don’t get up,” he called. He came up to them and sat down next to Alek.

  “Is there some kind of news?” Lissa asked.

  “No, nothing. I needed a walk, so I came to contemplate our signal drum.” He chuckled. “It is in fact as sophisticated as a jungle drum sounding through the forest.” He became more thoughtful in his expression. “There will be a small service for Pandasala Gbeho tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be there,” Lissa said.

  “Did you know her well, Alek?” Shastri asked.

  “Not very. She was the backup pilot.”

  “She was from Kenya. A large family will miss her.”

  “So what happens now?” Alek asked after a silence.

  Dr. Shastri locked his arms around his knees and stared at the alien drum. “Well, some of us think we should go out into the cometary halo and see if we can locate the disturbance that would be likely to send objects toward the Sun. We think that the radio message also carries a suggestion of where such a disturbing influence might be. Do you think that’s a good idea?” Alek answered. “Yes, but only if you could be sure of the coordinates. What would we do if we saw the danger?”

  “That depends on what kind of object it turned out to be. It could be something we might be able to divert or destroy. Better to prevent the cometary rain now than try to stop comets one at a time later. It would be a great service to the future of humanity if we could at least determine what we are dealing with.”

  “We should go,” Lissa said determin
edly.

  “Of course, if the danger comes from our solar system’s passage through galactic dust clouds, then there won’t be much we could ever do to prevent disturbances of the Oort Cloud.”

  “But we would know that it’s not being done on purpose, if we find nothing else,” Alek said.

  “We would be gone for at least two more years,” Dr. Shastri added.

  “Has the decision been made?” Lissa asked.

  “I think it will be decided that we should go. Almost everyone I’ve spoken to seems to agree.”

  “Anything new with the tachyons?” Lissa asked.

  “No, and we won’t learn anything from them for a long time, I’m afraid.”

  Alek shook his head in wonder. “It’s surprising how much we seem to have learned without deciphering all that much. Earth may be in danger, great civilizations exist out there that think enough of us to contact us gently, and perhaps they also disagree about our worth.”

  “Some say that all our conjectures are made of scanty facts and coincidences,” Dr. Shastri said.

  “I don’t think so,” Lissa said. “The Othersare out there. We wereled by circumstances to think all these things.”

  Dr. Shastri sighed. They looked at the alien drum. It sat quietly on the grass. The ear from Earth seemed just as composed, listening, determined to understand across what seemed to be a bridge of silence.

  “Perhaps civilizations also fall in love with each other,” Dr. Shastri said, “and the tachyons are singing love songs composed of knowledge and history. A music of information is passing between vast individuals, much in the same way that the genetic code passes between lovers and mingles to produce children.”

  When we grow up as a species, Lissa thought,the Others will sing to us ,and we’ll understand their songs.

  “I’d better get back,” Dr. Shastri said as he stood up. “No, no, you two stay. You deserve some time together.” He turned and started across the field to ward the road.

  Lissa felt a great affection for him as he marched away.He was a great nurturer, she thought, despite a weeding streak.

  “He looked out for us,” she said as Alek put his arm around her.