by James Lay
Chapter 8
The auxiliary controls in the lounge enabled the view to be changed from the continuous passing of stars, Pat complained it was turning his stomach over. He stopped the rotation of Shadow at a particularly dense section of the star cloud.
“It’s so clear here,” he commented, and leant forward and pointed at a particular spot,” looks like traffic lights over there.”
Carl couldn't see where he meant, so Pat placed a circle around the area he was indicating, using the HUD on his screen.
“You'll have to come over here to bloody well see it you plank,” as Carl looked across through the circle,” you've got the wrong angle from there.”
“Can't be bothered.” Carl said, sinking deeper into the couch.
“Lazy sod”.
The circle blinked out and they were left with the steady glint of stars, from one side of the lounge screen to the other, a wrap-round of about twelve meters. It was like being seated in a very clean conservatory, with no frames or steamed up windows in the way.
“What's the next step?” He asked.
“Just carry on, I suppose.” Carl answered.
“What, straight on, or zigzag about.” Their track path lit up on the lower holo' screen, showing their location and the track they had taken from the Junction.” Were there any radio contacts at all George, between Junction and here.” Continued Pat.
“I have to admit I haven't carried out that function,” George admitted,” I have only checked here, one moment please.” There was a pause.” No Radio”.
“I think it might be an idea to have Shadow stop if we pass through any radio transmissions.” Carl said.
“You will have to initiate that command or give me authority.” George advised.
“It's ok George, I'll programme it in when we get back to the cockpit.” Carl was a little reluctant to pass control of the movement of Shadow totally to George, that's what it would mean. Any malfunction of George’s control could cause havoc, not that he thought it could happen, but he was a bit sceptical. He noted a thumbs-up from Pat, he had obviously thought of the implications as well.
“How about another run,” suggested Pat,” we can't say this has been all that tiring, can we?”
“Why not.” Agreed Carl.
They wandered back in the direction of the cockpit proper and on the way took a look at their 'bedrooms'. The bunk in Carl's room, or Pat's for that matter - they hadn't decided who was going where - were of the same material as the couches. Even the 'top-sheet' was of the same material, as were the pillows.
“I'll sleep in here if you like.” Said Carl.
“Great, I'll have the other room,” agreed Pat,” from what the chairs and couches have felt like, the beds are going to be pretty comfortable.”
They continued on to the cockpit where Carl programmed an automatic stop into the Nav routine, should they intercept any transmissions, it only took a moment.
“I'll choose a direction and we'll go,” Pat suggested,” ok with you?”
“No problem.”
“Right, F26, wedge 69, if you know what I mean.” He smiled.
“Bloody typical.”
“Away Silver!” cried Pat.
They viewed the scan lines as the jumped progressed.
“Transmission intercept,” reported George,” on the nose, and it is not any language I have ever heard, I will play it to you.”
What followed was a 'language' completely unrecognisable to them.
“We are not in your solar system,” George reported,” the transmission is a repeat relay and I am in the process of translation.”
“How can you do that?” Carl asked.
“I am receiving the voice wave, very clear, I can then place the words spoken against the visual flashes I am receiving and finish up with the language, as I did with you,” George replied,” the message is very monotone and in very high speed state. It is not normal.”
“How do you mean, 'not normal’?” Pat asked.
“It appears to be a recording,” George reported,” but if it were a recording it would not have 'visible' speech.”
George was quiet for a time and they continued watching out of the screen, there was a planet ahead, about earth-moon distance as far as they could judge. It was a greasy-yellow colour. There was no sun visible, and on cue Pat rotated Shadow and the planet's sun came into view, a brilliant golden-yellow colour. The screens dimmed to filter out the brilliance and so did their personal shields.
“Carl, Pat, I have the language now.” He gave them the English translation, even using the timbre of the voice. It sounded male, of tenor pitch.” It is a playback from the beginning, as I said, and it is a recording of sorts, which I do not understand due to the speech waves.”
“Please help us,” started the voice,” we are trapped and have been for eternity. We cannot break free, you must release us. Come to our planet called Io and we will meet you. There is no danger but we are trapped for eternity. Please help.”
“The message goes on like that for quite some time, stops and then starts all over again.” Said George.
“It sounds like a sort of Mayday call, yet you say you can't understand something about it George. Just what?” Carl asked.
“Well, if it is a plain recording it would not have speech and visual wave form, and this has. It would not be possible to translate a pure recording, with so little to go on, yet the speech is terribly fast.” George replied.
“I'll tell you something else that's bloody strange,” said Pat,” I've been measuring Io and it's much larger than earth, about l0,000 miles in diameter but, and this is the bit, it has no mass, none at all.”
“What?” Carl started, he was going to say it was impossible but he could see the figures on the holo' sphere, he said it anyway.” Bloody impossible.”
“I know.” Said Pat.
“Any ideas George?” Carl asked.
“I have no suggestions Carl, I have never experienced this phenomena before.” George replied.
“It's got to be wrong.” Carl said, in a baffled voice.
“I think it is,” said Pat,” not our figures, the planet.”
They sat and watched the planet and played the voice again, at 'their' speed, and at the voice's normal speed, one hell of a difference.
“I suspect it is speeded up to enable a passing craft, like ours, to pick up the whole message and not just a few words.” Offered George.
“I thought you said there were no people around here.” Said Pat.
“That was many hundreds of thousands of years ago,” George retorted,” take yourselves for instance.”
“Give you that George,” said Pat,” that means all your records about this section are out of date.”
“Exactly Pat.” Affirmed George, in his normal calm voice.
Carl had scanned around for millions of miles and there were no apparent other craft movements, or signs of life, just this pleading voice.
“I don't like it,” grumbled Pat,” it's none of our business, let's sod off. Can't do that though, can we?”
Carl hated to admit it but he was right, but how could they help? Pat was tapping his fingertips on his lips.
“Do you think they are locked up or something and someone's lost the keys?” Pat suggested, in a questioning voice.
“Could be just that,” Carl replied,” or could it mean they have crash landed on the planet, broken their ship and can't get off again, the voice did say 'they' and 'all eternity', that's a long time.”
“That sounds a good bet,” agreed Pat,” we could go take a look and decide when we get there.”
“I can translate any persons speech for you, instantly in your ears, you will not have any trouble there at all, language wise.” Added George.
“That’s that problem dealt with, I'm no good at languages.” Said Pat.
“Yes, I've noticed.” Carl replied with a laugh.
“Cheeky bugger, you're not so bloody Oxford yourself
you London git.” Pat quipped back.
“Wait,” Carl said,” we have a major language problem after all, what is it George?”
There was a moments pause.” There is no problem Carl.” George replied, guardedly.
“Oh yes there ruddy well is, how do we speak the Io language?”
There was a definite pregnant silence, about 8 months pregnant silence.
“That was an oversight on my part.” Said George.
“Well come on George, what do we do about it?” asked Pat,” There's no way I can learn that squiggle of a racket.”
George was obviously very actively seeking the solution or a way out of the problem because he was quiet for another half a minute. Then his mellow voice began.
“I have checked the programmes to instruct you in the language, you can learn any language in about five minutes with 'instruction'. However, the profile of your vocal chords makes it virtually impossible to make the phonetic joining of the syllables. I have a solution which involves you, and the programming of your shields.”
“Explain the bit about us.” Requested Pat.
“It requires the implant of a small receiver speech module in your voice boxes. A procedure I can complete within ten minutes for each of you.” He explained.
“Oh dear,” said Pat,” operating theatre again. Will we know anything about it?”
“Nothing during or after the operation, you will not know it is there and it will not affect your voices either.”
“What about our lips, we would look pretty stupid speaking with our lips not moving in synchronisation?” Carl queried.
“That is where the programming of your shields comes in,” said George,” as you know, the whole of the Junction is a virtual visual effect, I can do the same for your lips. Place holo' lips over your own to operate in time with the words spoken.”
“That'll work will it?” asked Pat.
“Oh yes, that is a simple procedure that I have prepared whilst we have been talking, would you like to try it with the language of Io Carl?”
“Why not?” he replied,” What's involved?”
“Remove your jump module and plug in the interface from the console.” Said George, which he did,” Completed, you may replace the jump module onto your wrist unit. Watch his lips Pat.”
The voice of Io came into their ears and Pat's eyes lit up. He could see Carl's lips moving in time with the Io spoken language.
“Be jesus, I could swear you was saying it. Magic. Where do you want me for the voice box job?”
“In your room Pat”.
“See you in a minute Carl, or two.” Said Pat.
“Or ten.” Said George.
Carl was left on his own.
“Let’s have the music back George.” He said.
“Very well Carl.”
The music oozed out whilst he sank back and relaxed. Too much was happening all at once, perhaps it would eventually slow down to a gallop, which would be a relief.
Carl mulled over the planet of Io in his mind. A pleading recorded message, with speech waves, from a planet with no mass, a most improbable set of facts.
He brought up the holo sphere of the area and found that there had been one Yil trip near here. Scrolling up the period, he saw it was more than 780,000 years ago, meaning that this race of Io were well below that age, in technology. That was no help to his worries, their little Earth was only about 100 years old, 'technology' wise. It didn't pay to think too much sometimes.
He wondered how his wife, Kate, was bearing up, back at home, wherever that may be, in the great scheme of things. He supposed himself and Pat had been given up for dead by now, over a month now without a sign of them. The area they had been lost in was totally surrounded by roads, only a few miles away in every direction. Everyone would know that they couldn't possibly be lost in there forever, even though the jungle was pretty dense. They could have walked out, in any direction, in the best part of a day, even Kate knew that. A frustrating set of facts for the folks back home and even more frustrating for them, all this ultra high tech gear and no way of contacting Earth.
“Your turn Carl, I'm fine,” said Pat, appearing through the door and flopping into his seat,” didn't feel a thing.”
Carl journeyed back to his room and George asked him to lie down with his neck across two pillows. George was definitely a devious sod because it appeared to be in the same motion that he was lifting his head feeling a bit woozy, George had slipped him a Mickey-Fin without him feeling a thing.
“Thank you Carl, your voice tested out just fine,” informed George,” select Shield-Mode-Zero for speech and lip co-ordination function. Then when you speak normally, the lip mode will automatically bypass your native lip shapings.”
When Carl returned to the lounge, they both gave the translator/lip mode a trial run and were amazed at the reality of it all. It really sounded like Carl's voice when he physically spoke English, with his audio output in the Io language, whilst hearing only the English in his own ears.
“This is a marvel George and there's no doubt of that, it would be worth a bomb back on Earth.” Carl said.
“Without my link-up in the sequence, nothing would happen Carl.” George noted.
“Ah, forgot about that.”
They sat and talked about the visit to Io and agreed for Shadow to stay at this 'Waypoint', they to proceed to Io in non-jump mode in their shields, their speeds controllable from zero to 600,000 m.p.h. That’s quite a few k.p.h., thought Carl, never quite knowing the conversion and George was no help, he didn't either, the facts had to be in speech-waves for him to be able to catch it.
Both Carl and Pat were wondering what they were going to do or see on Io. Neither of them had a clue, good saviours they would be! How were they going to contact the 'recording' which was also a person, according to George, and one of over 17 million on the Planet, not a great number considering the size of the place.
They would have their Tangle Web and Muscle Inhibitor emitter 'weapons' on their right wrists. George advised them not to reveal the existence of the shields, if at all possible - not to show them off - it could create problems, Carl couldn't see what but the Yil knew more about the psychology of alien races.
Their jump modules would be able to place them at a spot as near to or as far away from the source of the transmission as was deemed prudent. It was then going to be an on-the-spot problem to work out how they were going to walk. A no mass Planet means a Planet without gravity, no gravity and how does a Planet stay in one piece, it should break apart and drift off, in separate lumps, into the void. A most difficult set of facts and contradictions as you are ever likely to meet.
George was very interested in the visit, and would be recording their every move to try and sort out all these anomalies.
They were as ready as they were ever likely to be and decided to take the plunge.
“Before you go gentlemen,” came the quiet voice of George,” you should prepare for your excursion into space, the vacuum.”
“I thought we just had.” Said Pat.
“Why no, do remember that the shield provides your oxygen for the vacuum.” Informed George.
“Yes George, we are well aware of that, what are you talking about?” Asked Carl.
“Why,” said George, in a surprised voice,” you are still breathing.”
“Course we're still breathing, you pillock.” Came the offended Pat.
“Well you must stop breathing, you do not breath in the vacuum with your shields on, the shield feeds oxygen atomically, directly to your body cells, there is no volume 'air' to breath. You need never breath anywhere with your shield on, although it is advisable to keep in practice for when you take your shields off.”
There was a stunned silence, ‘how can we stop breathing’, they both thought?
“You will notice only a moment of change, a mild stinging sensation all over your bodies and then everything will be normal, try it.” George suggested.
T
hey looked at each other.
Carl paused, slowly relaxed his lungs to a comfortable position, closed his mouth and blocked the passage to his throat with the back of his tongue.
There was a ten to fifteen seconds lapse where nothing occurred and then he began to get that 'urge' to breath and then began to experience the stinging sensation George had referred to and the breathing 'urge' went away. Carl was now not breathing and the automatic function of the diaphragm stopped its need to work. It was a most unusual sensation.
“What about when we get to Io George,” asked Carl, as he voluntarily started breathing again,” and what about speech in the vacuum?”
“As far as I can detect, you will be able to breathe as normal, and in any case your shields will protect you from any toxins,” George advised,” you will not be able to speak in the vacuum, I am afraid.”
“Ah well,” said Pat,” can't have everything, we'll have to think up something to cover that in the future. Wouldn't happen in a good old Earth Space Suit, George.”
Carl selected the door to the void, Shadow's protective shield preventing the escape of the ship's atmosphere.
As they passed through the door shield there was a light tinkling noise as their personal shields criss-crossed the power mesh of Shadow's shield. They were free in space and the shields maintained them, not only with oxygen and nutrients but also maintained the feet-down feeling, good old gravity.
Carl tried to breathe out a little, and it felt as if the shield was preventing any air from escaping to the vacuum. He carefully breathed it back in, same volume, he tried it again and again, same result, he had a small volume of air.
“Pat, you, can, speak, in, little, bits, the, air, doesn't, go, through, the, shield.” He stuttered.
“Hey, that's, great.” Pat replied.
“You amaze me, both of you, I have never heard of that before,” said George,” I must re-file and find the relevant reference.” And he was gone again.
They had set themselves up at maximum non-jump speed, with their bodies facing Io, not in Superman style, but literally stood side-by-side. The HUD on their shields informing them that they would enter the atmosphere in approximately forty-five minutes. They 'settled back' - if you can imagine how you would relax whilst hurtling through space, with no visible means of protection - and waited for the journey to pass.