“It’s an imperative,” replied an older man. “You must seek the Pickering ship. The first one.”
“Follow us to the stones,” said Don. “We’ll explain later.”
“Very well,” said Dr. Yeardsley, perplexed, and more than slightly anxious.
CHAPTER THREE
Winston Gunning
Joseph Jayden was not happy. His AG!Super Personal Space Vehicle was the pride of his life. He had used it to visit the moon many times. He had gone to Mars once, to near-earth asteroids and a comet, and to several Lagrangian Points in his home planet’s vicinity. He kept his PSV impeccably maintained, and he had never encountered a significant problem before, certainly nothing like the computer and guidance system malfunction that had struck during a high-speed orbit barely above the crags and craters of a totally dark lunar night. Fortunately Moon Base Alpha was served by one of the best astro-engineers to be found anywhere. And fortunately for Joseph, he was a friend.
∆∆∆
Winston Gunning, astro-engineer extraordinaire, had cut Joseph some slack. He had agreed to examine the PSV for a price considerably less than he charged commercial customers. He almost never did that. But he had known Joseph ever since he had helped him get his PSV out of impound. Truth was, he admired Joseph for his expert piloting of an AG!Super, and he thought Joseph had gotten a raw deal for buzzing an out-of-date and largely derelict launch center control tower.
“Okay, Joseph. I’ve checked and rechecked your Super. Nothing is wrong…with anything! Yes, your auto logs recorded an anomaly as you rounded the back side. Just as you neared an uncharted crater. Uncharted! Nobody but you finds an uncharted crater anymore. Every meter of the moon has been photographed, referenced, cataloged many times over. So this one is a mystery in itself. I need to turn these logs over….”
“Don’t do that, Win. Please don’t. Not until I’ve had a chance to go back.”
“I’m sorry, but you are not going back. Not till an investigation has been completed and authorization given. Since the problem is not with your PSV, we have to assume that there’s something down there.”
“Something down there? What does that mean?”
“I mean a strong radiation source. If there’s an uncharted crash of a vessel that used an early fusion-plasma drive, that could do it. And it could be dangerous. We don’t know how much radiation is leaking. It’s probably why that crater has never been seen before in the first place. Radiation made it invisible to photographic and mapping sensors. You just happened to be the only one who got close enough….”
“What would I need to be safe? I mean, if I could go back?”
“You’d need something bigger and better shielded than a PSV, that’s for certain. A lunar lorry maybe, with extra shielding. And you could not go EVA!”
“Well, if I could get one of those, and the stuff for it, could I go back then?”
“How are you going to raise enough credits for that? And getting authorization could take weeks…months….”
“Oh gosh…maybe I could sell the Super.” He frowned.
“Now that would be a startlingly foolish thing to do, son. To find a new space wreck that may or may not be there? You can get maps to lots of wrecks, if that’s what you’re interested in.”
“But they wouldn’t be just-found. I’ve got to think about this.”
“Remember you still have to get home, if you sell that is. Or take up residence here and that will cost you in credits, permits, and time.”
“Thanks, Win. At least I know my Super is okay.”
“The PSV is fine. Let’s hope its pilot is too.”
CHAPTER FOUR
There Is No Meaning
“There is no meaning to where I am. There is no meaning to where we are.”
Cult-leader Don announced this. His group chanted the same words in unison as the ritual began, the ritual in the garden that had once been Astronaut-Farmer Don Henson’s cornfield.
Dr. Margaret Yeardsley was a scientist. She did not, herself, believe in ritual, but she was also an archeologist and anthropologist. In her studies, investigations, and research into the behaviors, and creations, of humankind, she had encountered evidence of many forms of rituals and beliefs and many ideas that were steadfastly held by those involved in them. She knew how powerful beliefs could become among their followers. She knew how powerful rituals could be in making those beliefs seem manifest, encompassing, real.
Nevertheless, she had never encountered anything like this. She did not know why it seemed different. It was not different, she maintained. It was a lot of mumbo jumbo, like all the others, real only to those who believed in it. Belief, that’s what made it real to them, but she was without belief, so why did it seem real to her? She felt confused without knowing why. She tried to follow the meaning of the words, but they made no sense, no…meaning.
By now night had fallen; the circle had been ended but extended. Its members sat on blankets beside a small fire, and they spoke of how Don Henson had documented, in his book, the strange and profound visitation to a similar circle, many years before, when a much larger crowd had vanished, indeed been taken away, by some apparition, not of their knowing or understanding.
They had never been found, the members of that circle long ago. But did it have meaning?
∆∆∆
As Margaret later tried to sleep, rolled up in a blanket on ground not smooth enough, she became more and more cognizant of the meanings of the book she had never read, of Henson’s book, the book that was true, somewhere, or so they said. She vowed to herself to read it. Before she left Grover, she would obtain a copy via a satellite link to the vast amount of data available to her as a function of her office.
While proclaiming no meaning, this cult had made her aware of a self-knowledge, a destination, and a destiny. They had spoken of a great ship, the original Pickering ship, hidden to this day on the far side of the moon, in a crater never before seen. Meditations had brought this vision to them, and this group also believed that she was the One to seek it once again. Why did she believe them?
CHAPTER FIVE
Joseph's Luck
“You’re in luck, Joseph!” Winston Gunning, Astro-Engineer of Moonbase Alpha had called Joseph Jayden into the large transportation hub on the lunar surface. As Joseph approached, Gunning was leaning out the open hatch of a large moon lorry. It displayed the wear and tear of long service in an extremely hostile environment.
“You mean….”
“Yes, you’ve got authorization to take this rust-bucket to your invisible crater, once we finish adding radiation shielding and tweak its old digital navigation and propulsion systems. No organic analog systems for you considering what we think may have knocked out your PSV. That thing of yours is just too new.”
Joseph quickly crawled through the cockpit hatch to meet Gunning who had ducked back inside.
“Think you can pilot this thing?”
“Once I read the manuals and do a few simulations I can pilot anything,” Jayden answered. “But how did you get the authorization, and it, so soon? You said it might take weeks.”
“That’s why you’re in luck. In more ways than one. It seems that there is an archeologist who is interested in exploring the far side for any uncharted craters. And any wrecks not accounted for. She evidently has a bit of pull because the powers here came up with this bucket right away, and the authorization. They wanted her out of their hair, or something. So, she’s yours as long as you’re piloting, uh…um, Dr. Yeardsley wherever she wants to go. Is that agreeable to you?”
“Sounds great to me. Is this thing reliable?”
“We think so. We’re not planning a rescue though so be careful.”
“I want my PSV. I mean I want to take my PSV with me, just in case. It should fit in the back.”
“I guess it will. Got to secure it back there. I don’t think you’ll need it though. And your craft’s only a single seat….”
“I’ve had passenge
rs before. Well, one passenger. In a pinch it’ll work.”
“It’s a single seat, and its analog navigation doesn’t like that crater. But all right then. Here are the manuals and logs for the lorry. I suggest you start studying. I’ve got to figure out this digi-nav system, and my assistant here will be working on the shielding.”
“Looks like we both have work to do. When is the archeologist supposed to arrive?”
“Soon. Very soon.”
∆∆∆
How am I supposed to learn this stupid digital system? Joseph grumbled to himself. He knew a lot about the most modern systems, but this was from years past. It didn’t seem reliable to him at all. And he had little idea of how soon he would need to have it down pat. What if Dr. Yeardsley arrives tomorrow? What if she’s ready to go immediately? Still, the simulations went well, and he considered himself ready to fly.
“No, you’re not going to take her out solo. Not the first time.” Gunning was adamant. “I’ve appointed Capt. Ross to fly with you. Be careful backin’ outta this parkin’ lot, ya hea.” Gunning loved to use old-fashioned expressions and accents. He got them from all his antique videos since off-duty recreational activities were somewhat limited at Tranquility Base.
Jayden backed out of the large pressurized hanger, the “parking lot”, and through its voluminous airlock without mishap. It was good to fly again. Everything went well. Capt. Ross was capable and agreeable. His AG!Super had been neatly packed into the cargo hold and carefully secured.
From several kilometers above the lunar base, with ascent rockets deeply thrumming, Joseph could see an incoming lander hovering above a landing pad. A tiny cloud of dust glowed plasma blue in the lunar dusk before the engines quieted. Dr. Yeardsley had arrived.
CHAPTER SIX
On the Tip of a Dream
And so they had met, Dr. Yeardsley and Joseph Jayden. Joseph was to be her pilot. She was skeptical. Joseph was young and traversing the moon in a lorry did not seem to be his usual cup-of-tea. He had kept on bragging about his personal space vehicle and how it was going along with them in case of an emergency. She had looked at its luggage compartment and thought, I can’t fly in that! Why don’t they have a proper ship and an experienced pilot? I don’t want to fly in an old, repaired, lorry with this brash amateur.
But now it was her first sleep following her arrival. She would need time to adjust to the new schedule. Still, she found herself surprisingly tired. The low gravity made the tiny bed seem exceedingly comfortable. She drifted away, with sensations of floating, then being pushed or pulled, then floating again. The environmental controls were quiet and hypnotic, unlike the booming followed by silence of the trans-lunar shuttle.
A dream took her back to Don Henson’s garden and the ritual she had observed there. The dream seemed almost frighteningly detailed: the smell of the fire, the smoke in the breeze, the low voices chanting, words about having no meaning, words without meaning to her.
Her breathing stopped, and her muscles grew rigid, frozen, locked, unable to be willed into purposeful motion. A great eye was staring at her through the fire-smoke, unblinking, electric, writhing colors, transfixing, enveloping, penetrating. Imprisoning. It read her thoughts and transmitted to her its own.
She would go to the moon. She would seek the crater and the ship. It was an imperative. She would believe. She would have no evidence. She would have no memory of this command. Only the ritual itself would remain, a hurried blur of smoke and chanting balanced on the tip of a dream.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tomorrow
“What do you mean we can’t go right away?” Joseph was more impatient than Dr. Yeardsley, if that was possible.
“Capt. Ross says you need more practice. And I know that the doctor….”
“The doctor…call me Margaret…wants to be on her way as soon as possible. I am amazed at the coincidence here. I’m investigating a wreck in an unknown crater on the far side, and Joseph actually has evidence that he knows where it may be. I’ve ridden in the lorry now with Joseph as pilot. He seems to be doing a good job.”
Gunning was becoming impatient himself but not for the same reasons. “We just want you to be safe. Really, we’d prefer to send you with an expert, but all the expert pilots from here are working on more pressing projects elsewhere, or they’re off Luna altogether. Major Jackson is back on Earth with his family, and so are some others. We’re short-staffed at the moment. And there are new developments on Mars.”
“New tourist developments on Mars. This is history, not entertainment.”
“I’m ready to go,” Joseph blurted in. “I’m ready now. And Doctor…uh, Margaret…is having bad dreams.”
“Joseph!”
“Doctor, if you’re that anxious then you need to see the medical staff. Do you want me to…?”
“Mr. Gunning, I’m sure you are a fine engineer. But you cannot advise me on medical necessities. I am quite capable of attending to any needs myself, or calling for help if I need it, which I don’t. I want to talk to the base commander, now, right away!”
“Oh crap! Pardon. Don’t bother her. The commander definitely has bigger fish to fry than a routine trip to the far side.”
“If it is routine then there is no need for further delay. Tomorrow! We’re leaving tomorrow. Or your base commander will hear from my office at Cartwright.” Softly to Joseph, “Don’t you dare mention my dreams.”
∆∆∆
Tomorrow creeps in a petty pace. It surely does when you can’t sleep. And it’s a big day to come. Why can’t it start now? Margaret was not having a good night, even without a dream.
Of course, time itself is a social convention. The time we usually think about. The time that’s shown on a clock face or that coordinates communications or transmits or stores data. It’s meaningless enough on earth, and even more meaningless on the moon using earth standards.
But they said there is no meaning to where we are. Were they talking about time also? Space and time. It’s the same thing, and it’s…meaningless? What were they getting at? And why do I have these dreams? There was no ‘eye’. It was an empty ritual. It meant something to them. So no meaning had meaning to them. Sleep, me, go to sleep!
Margaret wrestled furiously with herself most of the night. When morning came, and the artificial lights brightened her windowless compound, she knew she was ready to go. She was as ready as she could be, with groggy eyes that would not open and a head that felt pounded upon by meteorites striking an airless world.
∆∆∆
Tomorrow became today. The lorry was ready. The personal space “rescue vehicle” was tucked in and secured. Joseph Jayden and Margaret Yeardsley were loaded into full protection moonsuits and strapped in by the station attendants. Very gentle thrusting was sufficient to levitate the lorry in the moon’s forgiving gravity, and Joseph expertly maneuvered the aging machine through the station airlock.
Margaret was in awe as the lorry lifted above rills and heights and proceeded at, what seemed to her, breakneck speed toward the terminator. It was a crescent moon on earth, which meant that the far side was now brilliant with sunlight and streaked by long shadows.
Even from relatively closeup the topography of the far side looked different from the familiar moon. The smooth darkness of the mares was replaced with rugged craters, and there was no end to deep shadows where large objects could be hidden.
∆∆∆
Joseph was approaching his target coordinates. He vectored thrust for additional lift. The lorry was capable of great forward speed, but it was not intended to fly at altitudes. Vectoring for lift slowed the machine significantly, but he did not want to be too close to a crater’s rim if his controls went haywire.
The digital screens blinked. Then they blinked some more. The glass cockpit was blinking in a dazzling way, but he could still read the numbers and other indicators as they rapidly disappeared and then appeared again. This was not the reaction of his PSV’s organic analog setup. The
lorry’s navigation and control screens were much more useable under these conditions, although the blinking phenomenon surely was not agreeable.
The target crater was not large, but its rim was abrupt. Parts of the interior were very dark. He would have to descend almost vertically to explore it. As he descended, he could see small areas of something slightly brighter mostly hidden in a shadow.
“Is there something there?” Margaret’s eyes were peering sharply through the open visor of her helmet. Her hands had tightened on the edges of her seat. She instinctively, but futilely, tried to lean forward against her restraints.
“I’m doing a scan now. It should tell us…something.”
“How can you read these displays? They look crazy. Is this a…problem?”
“Not so far. It’s just annoying. Wow! There’s metal down there. And a shape. Okay, we’re going in.”
This time Margaret pushed her back into her seat. She could not actually move, but the seat was dropping out from under her.
And there it was.
The landing lights on the lorry were fully bright. Their movement rippled across a great cylinder, dusty and worn, once silver and white with dark patterns, sometimes smooth, sometimes with ridges.
The cylinder was lying on one side, partially buried in dust. Strikingly, the side facing up revealed a long opening, a missing sector of the great cylinder. Beyond the opening, where the cylinder was still intact, there was a bulge of framed glass or a transparent material. It was undoubtedly an external observation bubble. The other end displayed coils of metal surrounding a structure of great complexity, terminating in the unmistakable bell of a rocket engine. The engine, though dirty and worn, was still perfect, without damage. This spacecraft had not crashed. It had been placed here with great care.
“Is this what you we’re looking for?” Jayden asked.
Personal Space- Return to the Garden Page 2