Under pressure, momentum would carry the stream of gases around the corner, through a hole in three-dimensional space and out into nowhere. A thousand tons a day of soot and toxic gases would simply disappear. It made Davis smile.
8 Gateway
Arm in arm, Marie and Jessica entered the training room. Conversation stopped and every eye focused on the two women. The others had definitely heard the news.
Zin approached first and held out his three-fingered hand. “We were waiting for you both to begin our final training session.” He gently touched the arms of both women and ushered them into the center of the team.
Stephanie shut off her camera and threw her arms around Marie and Jessica in a group hug. She said nothing but gave a purposeful nod to Jessica and a supportive glance to Marie.
Handshakes and a light hug from Tim and Wesley were a bit awkward, but Jessica’s idea that they should walk in together had been pure genius. Marie would never be able to thank her enough.
There was less drama than Marie had expected, but she was still relieved when Zin asked, “Shall we start?” The group gathered in a circle, and Zin stood in the center, smoothly pivoting his head to make eye contact with each person.
“We’ve covered everything at this point—systems, communications, safety and so on,” he began. “So, this afternoon I want to combine all that you’ve learned and do some role-playing, specifically to focus attention on interspecies etiquette and protocol.”
Zin explained that he would play the roles of both intelligent species found on Ixtlub—the Dancers and the Workers—providing realistic responses to questions. They would focus first on the Dancers, the dominant of the two species. “You won’t have to worry about your words, as I will take care of all translation, but please be aware of body language, as you’ve previously learned. We will be guests in a place that will feel strange to you, and any initial meeting between very different species can be a bit tricky. Thus our practice today.”
Zin dimmed the lights in the room and took a position in front of the group. “Welcome to Ixtlub,” he said in an altered voice, with gurgles coming from the back of the throat for each hard-consonant sound.
Marie smiled. This was going to be fun.
Tim started, asking how much the Dancers knew about humans. Wesley followed with a question about social structure. Zin was completely in character with his responses, though he returned to being the instructor on occasion, cautioning Tim to lower the volume of his voice and Stephanie to avoid looking up at the ceiling when she spoke.
“They’re not going to be hovering in the clouds, Stephanie. Look at them as you speak, and they will appreciate the physical connection. It’s one of the behavioral traits both humans and Dancers share—eye contact. Even if you find it difficult to locate their relatively transparent eyes, they will notice yours easily.”
The back-and-forth continued until everyone had asked more than one question except Marie; it was clearly her turn. She took a deep breath, pressed her hands together and remembered to look straight ahead. “Do you have communications satellites orbiting your world?”
Zin frowned. “Let’s stop for a minute.” He walked over to Marie and pushed her hands down to her sides. “Please, never put your hands together—not in a praying gesture, not in grasping, not in clapping. Did you recall reading this in the etiquette guide?”
“Um, I might have missed that,” she said.
“It’s a sex thing, Kendrick,” Tim said, his voice remaining louder than it needed to be. “They do it to each other. You know, tentacle to tentacle.”
“Thank you, Tim,” Zin said. “Just remember, Marie, your hands, particularly your fingers, will seem very odd to them. They grasp objects by wrapping a stretched tentacle around them, which is why so many of their tools are cylindrical in shape. As Tim points out, only in intimate contact do the proboscis extensions at the tips of their tentacles stretch out, very much like your fingers.”
“Sorry,” Marie responded sheepishly. “I can see this might be a sensitive topic. I’ll study up on it.”
“Thank you.” Zin backed away and addressed the group. “Everyone, hands and feet are your most disturbing physical features. Hands, because the fingers are always extended and are so manipulative. Feet, because they look like deformed versions of your hands. To avoid frightening anyone, please, always keep your feet covered.”
It was an embarrassing start as a new team member. For the remainder of the training, Marie stood ramrod straight, kept her fingers curled and made no hand motions at all. Probably overkill, but until she had time to read what everyone else had already learned, it would avoid further correction from Zin. She began to wonder what he had seen in her. Maybe he was having second thoughts about his choice.
When the session was finally over, Marie headed straight to the break room, a good place to read. She made herself a cup of tea and pulled out her iPad. Document 4a, Etiquette When Addressing Dancers.
“Kendrick,” said a voice.
She looked up to see Tim standing in the doorway. “Hi, Tim. You know, it’s okay to call me Marie.”
“I guess you were never military, were you, Kendrick?” he answered.
“NASA Operations. Instructor for ISS systems. No, never military.”
“Yeah, I remember taking a class from you,” he said. “On ISS heating and cooling systems, I think.”
“I remember you as a student, Tim. Very well.” There were some students that stood out no matter how much you tried to forget them.
Tim stepped into the room and waved an arm in the air. “What the hell are you doing here, Kendrick?”
“What do you mean? Ibarra assigned me. I was moved to active status to replace Jessica.”
Tim came closer, looming over her. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Ibarra passed over the alternates to pick you because he’s got to have a second woman on the team. Hell, I don’t care how many women we have on the team. But why are you on this team? You’re a teacher, not a rocket man.”
Marie didn’t move from her chair. There was no point in trying to correct Tim’s assumption. She sipped her tea. “You won’t be a rocket man either, Tim. We’re going to sit in a chair and glide through a portal.”
Tim closed within inches. “Is that what you think, Kendrick? That’s it? You’re going to step out of your comfy chair into a room that looks just like home except maybe it’s got a few odd-looking flowers growing at the windowsill?”
“I don’t really know what to expect, Tim. Do you?”
“Bet your ass I do. I’ve been there. Flight controls that freeze up, spacewalks that take too long, hatches that won’t close, onboard fires. I’ve dealt with those emergencies and kept my head straight. You know anything about that?”
Marie didn’t respond.
Tim stepped back into the doorway, as if intentionally blocking the only exit. “Kendrick, I don’t know what we’ll encounter on the other side of that portal, but I can guarantee you that it will take more than just rote procedures or a pretty smile—it’ll take intestinal fortitude and a whole lot of courage. You got that on your resume?”
Marie tensed, pushed both hands together under her chin and then, hearing Zin in her head, set her hands down. “There might be more on my resume than you know about, Tim. But thanks for the pep talk. If I need any more encouragement, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Tim shook his head and looked briefly at the floor. “Look, I don’t have anything against you, Kendrick. But you’re in way over your head and you haven’t figured that out yet. Once you’re on the other side of that portal… well…” He narrowed his eyes, did an about-face and left.
Marie sat alone, shaking.
Nothing like a good cup of tea to help reduce anxiety. She sipped, the warm tea sliding down her throat, but the anxiety remained.
She closed her eyes and pictured herself on the exotic planet once more. Standing alone at the top of a hill overlooking a pink ocean with glints from the dim red sun.
Wispy clouds drifted across the sky and thin grasslike plants grew at her feet, bending gracefully under the gentle wind.
Tim might be right. The other side of the portal would probably be nothing like that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The O&C clean room had been transformed overnight. Marie knew it would. Had her job remained administrative coordinator, she would have been responsible for making it happen.
The white oval portal still stood alone in the center of the room, with four transfer stations—the dentist chairs—positioned on its platform. But to one side, a low barrier separated the transfer station from bleachers that were now mostly filled with people. The place looked like a basketball arena.
Zin led, followed by the four katanauts dressed in blue jumpsuits, a NASA or ESA patch on one arm and a Mission to the Stars patch on the other. As they started across the wide floor and made their way to the center, applause rippled through the stands of spectators. Reporters lined the barrier, cameras rolling.
“I had no idea it was going to be this public,” Wesley said to Marie, walking at her side.
Marie nodded. “Once we decided against the clean-room concept, NASA figured this should be like any launch. Observers, spouses, politicians… and the press.”
“Except they’re a lot closer than they would be to Pad 39C,” Wesley noted. “Let’s hope nothing blows up.”
Marie inspected the former astronaut’s eyes. He didn’t seem to be kidding.
Several NASA engineers sat at the Transfer Command Station surrounded by computers and other equipment. Jessica, the “capsule communicator” for the launch, stood at one end wearing a headset. The terminology from the days of rockets would die hard. With an entirely new method of space travel, the roar of a rocket would be replaced by two 4-D bubbles. A large one generated from Ixtlub, a smaller one from this room by using technology Zin had orchestrated. The unseen bubbles would intersect at the portal doorway. Four chairs would simply slide along a rail and disappear through the portal, transported across three hundred and fifty light-years of space that had been compressed to almost nothing.
The team exchanged handshakes and hugs and waved to the crowd and the cameras. A few minutes later, Jessica called out in a loud voice that could be heard across the entire room. “We have 4-D detection! Countdown commencing at T-minus eight minutes.”
They gathered closely around Zin. “Ixtlub has initiated on their side. You know what to do,” he told them. Marie did. At least she hoped she did. The pages of documentation had become a blur, and her body was running on pure adrenaline.
The first step was the remainder of the suiting-up process. They each donned a lightweight headset with an earpiece, good for transmitting and receiving up to ten kilometers and a built-in video camera that could record for several hours. Tim strapped a belt around his waist, the signal repeater for the whole team that allowed for communications back to Earth via 4-D space.
Next was a small oxygen bottle that hung on Marie’s hip, with a clear tube connected to a tiny cannula inserted into her nose. A little uncomfortable, but vastly better than a full pressure suit and helmet. The Ixtlub atmosphere, like Earth’s, was mostly nitrogen, but the oxygen content was only half of Earth’s 21 percent. Without the cannula, they would quickly become dizzy or disoriented. A water bottle was clipped to the other hip, with a small waterproof fanny pack in between. Zin carried a larger case containing spare oxygen bottles, additional water and food sufficient for their two-day trip.
Once she was fully suited, Marie sat in the third chair. It even had her name on it. A technician reclined the chair and fastened the hip and shoulder straps that connected in a center buckle. “Just push the center button to release,” he told her. He did a quick communications check and she gave him a thumbs-up.
“T-minus two minutes and counting,” Jessica declared. “All systems are green.”
A launch control officer verified that each team member was seated and indicated his authorization to proceed. When the countdown reached one minute, the hoods on the backs of the chairs automatically positioned themselves over each person’s face. It was Marie’s first opportunity to see what might be under the mysterious device. Disappointingly, there was nothing more than a single LED, unlit.
Beneath the sides of the hood, she watched the technicians back away from the chairs. Wesley sat to her right and Stephanie to her left. Stephanie made eye contact. The mock silent scream on her face did nothing to disguise the broad smile.
“T-minus ten seconds, nine, eight, seven…”
It’s finally happening. I’m leaving Earth.
Her heart pounded. She was thankful there were no biometrics included in their gear. Better to be nervous in private.
“…three, two, one. Launch initiated.”
The LED flashed with a yellow light as brilliant as the midday sun. The world—and time itself—froze.
9 Dancers
The blast of yellow light was shockingly bright. Marie reflexively drew her hands over her eyes and waited for the afterimage to fade.
Sunglasses would have been a nice option.
Logically, the flash was not the first, but the second, bringing her back to consciousness. Time had passed, though how much was not clear. She had no memory of the gap, just a vague feeling that her existence had been altered in a way she’d never experienced before.
As the hood automatically lifted, she opened her eyes. An empty space surrounded her, with dim light glittering. She lifted her head from the chair. Stephanie to her left, conscious and looking around. Wesley to her right, detaching his harness. Marie pushed the button and the straps fell away. She sat up straight and stared in awe at the very alien scene.
Amazing.
The four transfer chairs were lined up across a flat green platform, inside a room-sized bubble of air, with a dome of clear water all around. They were on the floor of a shallow sea, with shafts of reddish light penetrating from a surface not far above. The platform was wide enough for the chairs, but not much more. Beyond its edge, a seafloor of white sand stretched out for several hundred yards and eventually rose to a hill in the distance, covered with dozens of white buildings with blue tops. It reminded Marie of the charming towns that graced the hillsides of many Greek islands, though it was entirely underwater.
To the left, just beyond the edge of the dome of air, a forest of giant kelp swayed gently in ocean currents. The dark green plants seemed to reach all the way to the surface. Marie pushed from her chair and stood upright. Tim and Wesley were also up and walking around the platform. Just beyond her teammates, but still inside the air bubble, stood a white oval portal. It looked identical to the portal at the O&C building, now very far away.
We made it. The other side.
She smiled at Wesley and he smiled back, remaining silent. No one dared interrupt the mesmerizing quiet and beauty of the place. Marie stepped forward, toward the wall of clear water at the front edge of the platform. There was no glass barrier; the water itself formed a smooth surface starting from the platform and arching over their heads.
Approaching within inches, she reached out a hand and touched it. Wet and soft, just like touching any water surface, even though this one was nearly vertical. She released her hand. The surface wobbled slightly but remained in place.
“Wow,” she whispered. “Surface tension, but somehow controlled.”
She extended an index finger, slid it through the water barrier and withdrew it. Her finger returned wet, but not a drop came out from where she’d poked.
Stephanie moved in close, a red light on her headset indicating her camera was recording Marie’s interaction with the wall of water. “No sign of our hosts,” she said as the recording’s narrator. “But their planet is stunning.”
Marie wasn’t ready to think; it was enough to absorb the picturesque yet unfamiliar scene. She leaned back, looking straight overhead. The bubble was considerably higher than any room ceiling, perhaps fifteen feet overhead.
Well above, through ocean currents and surface waves, she thought she could see blue sky and clouds, though the cloud edges were tinged with red, like sunset.
Blue sky is nitrogen, just like Earth.
Marie wondered how far it might be to the surface and whether they could swim—only in an emergency, of course. Her heart pounded with an instant adrenaline spike. She looked around, panicked. “Where’s Zin?”
Stephanie switched off her headset cam. “Good question.”
Tim checked his communication relay. “I’ve got nothing. Zin was supposed to walk through before us. He should have been here when we arrived.”
Without Zin, this mission would deteriorate very quickly. She recalled what Tim had so bluntly explained the day before: things do go wrong.
“Don’t panic,” Wesley said. “We’ve got the comm link and the chair recall buttons. If for some reason Zin didn’t make it through the portal, there’s no reason we can’t return to Earth and reorganize. Tim, let them know.”
“I already did,” Tim said. “No response yet.”
Wesley was right, but the feeling of abandonment was still disconcerting.
“Somebody’s coming.” Stephanie pointed out to the sandy hill, where a vessel of some kind moved through the water. Cylindrical, and silver in color, like a small submarine. As it approached, its size became more apparent, as large as a bus. Its motion stirred the white sand on the ocean floor. The vessel had vertical and horizontal fins that pivoted, turning it as it neared the platform. It stopped and lowered to the seafloor, and a hatch opened at its stern.
A figure descended to the white sand, cocooned in what appeared to be a bubble of air like their own, but smaller. The diffraction at the bubble’s surface distorted the view of the being inside. “This is it, gang,” Tim said.
The Quantum Series Box Set Page 36