by CJ Williams
(Lord Byron, “The Prophecy of Dante”)
The rear hatch irised open, and Gus peered out at his surroundings. The lifeboat had crunched down near the water’s edge on the north side of the island with its nose pointed toward the sea. The beach was a solid bed of lava. In both directions, immense boulders dotted the shoreline, with a thin film of ice covering the windward side of each stone.
“Colder than I might like?” Gus mumbled, recalling Nineteen’s vague forecast. “It’s freezing out there.” He pulled the zipper of his flimsy jacket all the way up.
A wave rolled in, nudging the lifeboat toward the shore and then tried to drag it back into the surf. He wondered how high the tides would get on a planet with two moons. The lifeboat held his only survival gear, and from here on every single item was useful. His first priority was to anchor the vessel to the shore in case the tides were high enough to float it away.
Fortunately, the lifeboat had an excellent supply of survival equipment. He dug out an eight-inch knife and used it to hack the shroud lines away from the parachute. He tied off one of the long cables to the lifeboat’s two rear struts and wrapped the other end around a huge rock well up on the shoreline.
With the lifeboat secure, he continued to the top of the low ridge. From the crest, he could see most of the island. It appeared to be the remains of an ancient volcano. At some point long ago, the crust over the interior magma chamber, the caldera, had collapsed, taking out the western portion of the crater wall. The sea flowed through the resulting gap into the remaining volcanic cone and created a spacious lagoon surrounded by a wide, flat shoreline. Off to the west of the island, a few smaller promontories poked up from the ocean’s surface.
The far shore of the lagoon, perhaps a mile away, was barely discernible, obscured by morning sea fog. To his left, the eastern side of the island rose steeply to a high promontory. That portion of the original volcanic cone still remained and was now the highest elevation.
Steam rose from the mountain’s base where hot springs billowed up in a thick mist. It hinted at fresh water and at least some degree of warmth. It had to be better than staying in the freezing lifeboat, but he would need supplies.
Gus gathered up the parachute into a big, poufy bundle and stored it in the lifeboat. He cut out several large squares to wrap up some of his food rations and packed the remaining material away.
He was soaked by the time he finished and started to shiver. He needed to warm up before he did anything else.
“Are we close to the alien?” he asked Nineteen.
“Unknown. I can only say that the signal originated from this general vicinity.”
“That’s really aggravating,” he groused. After sharing all of Nineteen’s data, they had not heard from it once. Time to forget about such matters and head inland.
Once he crossed to the inside of the crater’s rim, the ground became smoother and easier to walk across. Clumps of moss appeared, peeking out from tiny depressions in the stone.
A hundred yards from the hot springs the temperature changed noticeably, like passing through an invisible barrier. On one side the air was cold and bitter; on the other, just a hint of warmth. The tall volcano cone provided a windbreak and let the hot spring’s warm air accumulate in its shadow.
Nearer the springs, brown lichens appeared on the ground. Further along the vegetation became dryer, and finally, he walked over a dry, beige grass that flattened under his footsteps. In a few areas, the cracked rock gave way to patches of real earth. Spiny plants sprouted, and small shrubs grew precariously in shallow depressions.
The ground around the springs area was solid basalt. The air was humid, and hot water flowed from indentations in the rock. On the far side of the springs, under the shadow of the lofty peak, it was almost balmy. The stony ground gave way to a relatively large, tropical-style jungle that filled at least a quarter of the island’s interior.
Gus knelt next to a more substantial pool where the rocky surface was warm to the touch. Steam rose from the bubbling water, which overflowed into a horizontal channel that led down to the jungle and eventually into the fog-filled lagoon.
He stuck his fingertips into the water. It felt like a Japanese bath, hot but not scalding. Just what the doctor ordered. He stripped off his clothes and eased into the pool, letting the warmth spread through his body.
He massaged his limbs, enjoying the first bath he’d had since the disaster. The water had a slightly mineral taste with no trace of salt. This was good. His new home had warmth and fresh water. The situation was looking up. For an hour he took turns lying on the warm stone and soaking in the healing waters.
While recovering his strength, he studied the surrounding vegetation. The variety of trees was endless as though seeds of every kind had once been strewn haphazardly throughout the jungle. The fruit was foreign to his eyes and yet eerily similar to the produce section of the grocery store near his home.
Once he warmed up and his clothes were dry, he ventured far enough away from the pool to pull down some plantains and another fruit similar to a pomegranate. He spotted close cousins to bananas, mangos, and more. A large brown berry resembled a kiwifruit. Deeper in the trees, bright yellow lemons dangled tantalizingly.
After a quick meal, he rigged up a basic lean-to. It gave him a place for shelter and to store his gear. In the afternoon he made a trip back to the lifeboat. It was still there, safely secured on the beach. The struts had dug into the surface a little. He was relieved that it hadn’t tried to float away. The high-water marks along the shore’s edge indicated full tide would not reach the lifeboat’s hatch.
“Nineteen, how are you fixed for power?”
“Battery level at sixty-eight percent.”
“How long will that last? I want to keep sending messages to Carol every day, so she knows how I’m doing.”
“That should not be a problem,” Nineteen said. “I have a configurable energy saving mode. My batteries can maintain basic AI function to include subspace communication for another thirty days at least. Deployment of my solar panels will extend that indefinitely. However, this would not include providing you with a warm environment for habitation.”
“That’s okay. I found a spot that looks decent enough. I can live there until someone comes for us.”
Nineteen’s voice assumed a troubled tone. “Perhaps this would be an appropriate juncture to discuss the future. I have thus far avoided that topic because my programming indicates that people often have difficulty adjusting to the reality of a survival situation.”
“If you’re going to tell me that I might spend the rest of my life on this rock, yeah, I’m well aware. But for now, my plan is to keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best. You can tick off that square; we had our talk.”
“So noted.”
“I wish you had some real blankets. Your side bench isn’t the softest thing in the world, but it beats sleeping on hard rock. Maybe I can fix up something else. A hammock might work.
“I have nothing like that in my stores.”
“I’m not criticizing. You did good to get me this far.”
“Thank you. That was an uncharacteristically kind comment, based on your verbal input thus far.”
Gus thought about Nineteen’s remark. That was actually pretty good programming. Most AIs were not perceptive enough to encourage personal reflection. It was an appropriate consideration in his current circumstance.
“It’s been a long day,” Gus said. “I guess I’m feeling a little maudlin. Probably a good time to let Carol know what’s going on. I wish I could show her the little jungle. Might make her feel better.”
Nineteen said, “I have a remote camera/communicator available. Would you care to use it for your messages?”
“Yeah! What do you have?”
“Please look in storage compartment B9. There is a container labeled Auxiliary Portable Transceiver.”
Gus dug it out. The box also included a small tripod and modest roll-u
p solar panel. “It’s a handiphone,” Gus said. “I haven’t seen one of these in fifty years, and they were antiques then.”
“That’s correct,” Nineteen confirmed. “Although not as user-friendly as current personal phones, handiphones are still widely used for emergency situations because of their durability.”
“This is good. I’ll take it with me. Are you going to stay watertight for the next few days?”
“I believe so. The primary threat for water intrusion is from the exposed shroud line attachments. In that area, I may be susceptible to minor seepage from rainwater. I will notify you if it becomes a problem.”
“Good enough.” Gus wrapped up the handiphone, along with more rations in one of the parachute squares, and headed toward the hot springs. As he crested the ridge to the island’s interior, a cold drizzle started. Hopefully, his modest lean-to would provide enough shelter so he could get some sleep.
*.*.*.*
“Welcome back, everyone,” Cassie said from the set of Studio 37. “Our guests this morning includes Katelynn Santos from the Times, and Colonel Matthew Singleton, a former inspector for the Space Transportation and Safety Board and GBN analyst. Matt, what does this latest report from the Star Group mean?”
“I would call it good news. Officials are calling it the beginning of the end of this unprecedented transportation disaster. And although I say that, it could have been so much worse. With a few exceptions, the passengers and crew have been accounted for.”
“How many of those exceptions are we talking about?” Katelynn asked. “And can you tell us why that would be?”
Singleton gave a slight shrug. “At this point, it’s reasonable to assume that Star Group is still tallying the numbers. It hasn’t been much more than a week, and getting an accurate account of everyone is difficult because many of the lifeboats don’t have communication systems. The good news is that the passengers who ejected after the Solar Princess went back into lightspeed have been found safe.”
“How is that possible?” Russell asked. “Didn’t they wind up in completely different parts of the galaxy?”
“That’s correct,” Singleton replied. “But let’s not overstate it. Essentially, they wound up in three clusters. Thank goodness in each grouping at least one of the lifeboats had a complete set of functional instruments. Otherwise, this would have been a different story. The navy has identified their locations and established navigation routes to all survivor locations. Rescue vessels are now en route to the respective areas.”
“But how did they wind up so far apart?” Russell asked. “As I understand it, when you go into lightspeed, space becomes folded like an accordion, and the navigator picks how many of those folds he wants to skip over. Why wouldn’t the survivors simply be between Earth and Wheelers Bright?”
“You’ll need a mathematician to answer that question,” Singleton admitted. “But essentially, the folded accordion example is not that accurate. Once a spacecraft goes into faster-than-light travel, normal physics don’t apply. At that point, it moves into what physicists call the quantum universe.”
Russel nodded. “I took that course in college,” he said. “Things like the uncertainty principle and gravitational singularities. I didn’t understand a single word.”
“I can sympathize with you. However, if you want to stay with the folded space metaphor, you should think of the quantum universe as more of an origami sculpture than an accordion. A place where every point on the sculpture touches many other points, not just one. If you exit lightspeed at an unplanned location, going in an unknown direction, there is no telling where that point, or that fold in your analogy, might take you. You might come out along your planned route, but you could wind up anywhere.”
“Any place in the galaxy?” Cassie asked.
“Or worse,” Singleton replied. “Theoretically, even in a different galaxy.”
“Really!” Cassie exclaimed, shocked by the notion. “But that didn’t happen in this case?”
“Not for the passengers we found. Relatively speaking, they were pretty close to each other. That’s why we located them so quickly and could dispatch rescue vessels in all three directions. Even so, the navy said it will take at least a month or two to get all of them back to Earth.”
Cassie exhaled expansively. “I’d call it a miracle that two thousand people went through that experience and survived. It’s like you said before, no one ever contemplated this situation.”
“That’s true,” Russell said. “But Matthew, you mentioned some exceptions. How many of those are there?”
Singleton assumed an appropriately gloomy demeanor. “We know that some of the crew and passengers lost their lives during the initial disaster. Many of the survivors reported they felt or heard explosions going off inside the ship. We also know several of those explosions breached the hull, and a few victims were thrown out into space. Those unfortunate souls died almost instantly. The first responders who are now at the scene believe they have found all of the human remains, but identification is an arduous and lengthy process. They are still counting.”
Russell nodded. “So that number is up in the air. And we don’t know exactly how many dead and injured may have remained on the Solar Princess when it took off on its last trip into lightspeed?”
“That is correct. That is why it is turning out to be so difficult in making a final tally of the crew and passengers.”
“Have they found the Solar Princess?” Cassie asked.
“Yes. As of last night, IGDSS reported they have identified the space liner’s actual crash beacon. It is quite remote. We are keeping our fingers crossed that there may yet be survivors on the vessel. The military sent the destroyer USS Fitzgerald to that location. They estimate it will take them about three weeks to get there.”
“So, is there still hope?” Katelynn asked.
Singleton hesitated. “Technically, yes, there is still hope.”
“I know one of the passengers,” Katelynn said. “She’s like family to me and I can’t give up on her.”
“And you shouldn’t,” Cassie said. “One thing that surprised me is how this disaster has affected families all over the world. Cruise liners are getting so big that I guess it’s inevitable.”
“That’s true,” Singleton said. “When a president dies, an entire nation might mourn their passing. But in this case, the suffering is almost global. It has truly drawn our world together. At the same time, I should be honest. I would be surprised to find anyone still alive. Several survivors reported that the ship was already coming apart when it disappeared into FTL.”
Russell gave Singleton the tiniest head shake. Be positive.
“But miracles do happen,” Singleton corrected himself quickly. “So you are correct, Katelynn. There is still hope. We may yet find those who are missing from the Solar Princess in a lifeboat somewhere. Maybe even on a planet, safe and sound.”
*.*.*.*
Gus woke up stiff as a board. Today, he had to find something better to sleep on. The stone slab around the hot springs was warm enough, but that’s all he could say about it. He dug out the handiphone and set it up on the tripod inside the lean-to.
“Good morning, babe,” he said. He described in detail what he’d had for dinner last night, told her about the weather and, with a multitude of hand gestures, explained how he planned to build a South-Pacific-style hut to replace his current shelter. He crept out of the lean-to trying not to groan. Rising to his feet, he panned the camera around his surroundings. “Looks like the fog finally cleared out. Let me show you…”
Gus’s voice trailed away as he gazed in astonishment at the far side of the lagoon. Sitting on a smooth lava flow was what appeared to be an ancient Spanish galleon. It was an old, square-rigged sailing ship. An unknown crew must have hauled it out of the water long ago. It had a roundish, boxy shape with three masts sticking up from the hull like signposts for Davy Jones’s locker. It had to be Nineteen’s alien contact.
“
I gotta check that out, babe,” he said to the camera. “I’ll call you back.”
He terminated the connection, perplexed by the paradoxical scene. From where he stood, the ship did not look like a derelict piece of old wreckage. It sat on the rocky beach, looking lost and forgotten, but appeared to be intact. How did it get here, he wondered, and even more, who brought it? Nineteen had assured him unequivocally that the world was uninhabited.
It didn’t matter. Someone else could sort out the question of the ship’s origin. Gus’s interest was more prosaic. Might it have something on board that could improve his situation? And of course, did it really have an AI? Could it call home in place of Nineteen? He headed toward the crater rim to make his way around the lagoon.
*.*.*.*
Without the high volcano ridge to block the wind, the far side of the lagoon was a cold and forsaken place, a fitting spot for a mariner’s graveyard. The only thing missing was the cry of seagulls.
The galleon was over a hundred feet in length and at least twenty in its beam. It had two mainmasts, one on the forward deck and a larger one in the middle. A smaller mast, the mizzen, protruded from the ship’s quarterdeck near the stern.
Tatters of old, still-furled sails fluttered in the wind, and the rigging hung loosely from the masts. Gus stopped several times to video the ship. He was not an expert in ancient nautical terminology, but he narrated for Carol as best he could.
Under the bowsprit, the ship’s carved figurehead, a ferocious, dragon-like visage, gave the vessel a Viking flavor. The forward part of the ship had a small enclosed area called the forecastle. The roof above it served as the forecastle deck. Behind that was the large main deck called the waist. Aft steps led up to the quarterdeck, which held the big ship’s wheel. More steps led up again to the poop deck. Underneath the poop deck, mullioned windows wrapped around the stern like an old British man-of-war.
Along the hull, hinged planks covered the gun ports. He counted four in the middle and three more closer to the bow. One of the port covers had fallen away and within, Gus could see a giant, black iron muzzle.