Flower-of-Sands: The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut (Seriously Intergalactic Book 1) Page 6

  ***

  Lex and Harrison stood in the Eris base manager’s office looking silently out at the Eris landscape that in so many ways resembled Pluto, but which was different – arid, deeply interesting, with contorted mountain ranges on the horizon. This should have been a time for them of discovery and curiosity, of richness and scientific investigation; instead, Lex was overcome with worry for Venetia. Her friend had disappeared. Vanished, without a trace.

  Du-Lancaster, Chief Administrator of the Eris Project that was supported by NASA and the Mike Brown Institute, entered the room, accompanied by his secretary and other management personnel, who quickly sat around a circular table.

  ‘Please,’ Du-Lancaster said smoothly, his lips turned up in a smile that masked the creases of concern around his eyes. ‘Harrison, Alexandra, please join us. Would you like another coffee?’

  Lex shook her head, but Harrison seemed in need of one. As soon as they were seated, Du-Lancaster began speaking. ‘We have searched everywhere, on the ship, on all the shuttles, on this base, on Eris.’ He gave a technical account of their investigations. ‘There is no trace of her. One moment she was there. The next, she was gone.’

  ‘There was a meteor shower or something,’ a dark woman with untidy hair but a keen expression said. ‘We can’t understand what it was. Some sort of magnetic interference, maybe. We can’t see how that relates to Venetia’s disappearance, however.’

  ‘Could she have left the ship in any way?’ Du-Lancaster paused. ‘Was she unhappy?’ He seemed reluctant to raise the possibility of suicide.

  ‘No way,’ Lex said sharply.

  ‘She was seen shortly before the early shuttle Launch,’ Harrison said. ‘Our android Laic-La was with her, although she is somewhat vague about the exact last time she saw her, which is unusual for an android.’

  Du-Lancaster was thoughtful, his tone diplomatic, yet hesitant. ‘So, we do need to rule out … suicide. We can see from her file that she was recently overlooked for an important mission for which she was highly qualified. Could that have affected her peace of mind?’

  ‘Of course, she was disappointed at being overlooked,’ Lex came in aggressively, ‘but to even contemplate that this would cause her to take such an action is ridiculous.’

  This seemed to placate Du-Lancaster. He cleared his throat apologetically. ‘Of course, but the circumstances are so unusual that we can rule nothing out.’ He paused again. ‘However, I do need to tell you that despite having already searched everywhere in depth, we have not given up. We are intensifying our efforts, and will continue to do so, until we solve this unprecedented puzzle.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lex whispered.

  They continued talking for an hour before disbanding. Lex went to her quarters, where she cried for a while, before switching on her slate and linking to Laic-La. ‘Laic, can we go over Venetia’s last movement and look for clues?’

  ‘I already have, and I have something. I thought you should be the first to know.’

  ‘You have? Why wait until now to contact me? I’m desperate. Surely you should have realized that.’

  There was a knock on her door and Lex called out ‘open’.

  Laic-La walked in. She was naked and silver all over, except for her blue hair.

  ‘I am sorry, Lex. Please forgive my insensitivity. I have extraordinary news, and I thought I would tell you eye ball to eye ball, because it’s sensitive, like ultra-sensitive.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘Which do you want first, the scientific explanation or the conclusion?’

  Lex rolled her eyes. ‘The conclusion, of course. Tell me.’

  ‘Someone or something has abducted Venetia.’

  Chapter 5

  Large Magellanic Cloud: Liberty Primary

  ‘Hi! I’m coming down.’

  She scrambled like a child, her climb random, almost clumsy. The man waiting for her at the base of the rock thought she would fall, that she would not make it without assistance. Then she was walking towards him, her hand held out gracefully, her expression amused, as if something funny had occurred which he had missed.

  ‘I love it here. Don’t you?’ She surveyed her surroundings with an intent normally reserved for pictures at an exhibition. ‘I don’t need to introduce myself. You know who I am. And you are?’

  ‘Call me Danton.’ He smiled brightly. ‘You are the one they talk about – Flower of-Sands – the one who is eight hundred years old.’

  ‘Give or take, given temporal anomalies, relativity and all that.’ She exhaled softly. ‘Mind you, I am not really eight hundred. I’m just an immature twenty something, depending. Most of it I slept through, and arrived here into this new world.’ She paused. ‘And this thing you call the Field.’

  ‘Yes, the Field has at last become the world’s ally. We have everything we need, all the time. And we can create our lives as we wish, no longer victims of an uncaring universe, but masters of our destiny.’

  ‘Mm yes, well, I am not really sure about that.’

  ‘How can you not be sure? We have everything.’

  ‘Exactly, that’s the point. It's too easy. I want …’ Here she paused as she looked across her prairie towards distant mountains. ‘I want … something more, something else. I want adventure.’

  He said nothing. The concept of adventure was difficult for him. What was there to want in a world in which wanting had become obsolete.

  She read his mind. ‘I’m primitive, aren’t I? A noble savage!’ She became thoughtful. ‘Maybe not so noble.’ She took his arm. ‘Come, let me show you to my cabin; I will make tea. You do drink tea; I presume?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Sculptured vines heavy with fruit with colours ranging from bright yellow to purple covered the roof of her cabin. Flowers grew along the sides of a path leading to her front door. Rich soil heaved with the romance of multifarious plants and fungi. The windows were open, welcoming the afternoon air as animals and birds played among trees and hedges.

  ‘You have made it nice here,’ he said rather stupidly, so bewildered he didn’t know what to say.

  Tea was golden, sweet, with a hint of mint and evergreen flora. She poured slowly, watching his face, waiting for the right moment to present her question.

  'I wanted to ask you about exploration,’ she said suddenly. ‘That’s why I asked to see someone official.'

  ‘We do not have officials anymore. But I am the next best thing, so to speak.’

  ‘What about exploration? Are there facilities for such a thing on this brave new planet?’

  ‘That question is easy to answer. We have no such facilities, at least in the old sense. Adventure is, to coin an ancient phrase, history.’ He seemed to hesitate, rather pleased with his use of words, although she appeared not to notice. Then he added, ‘At least until now.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Again, he hesitated, and sipped his tea. ‘This tea is exquisite.’

  ‘I take pride in making it with my own hands.’

  His eyes widened with surprise. ‘Really? You actually made it?’

  ‘Indeed, I did.’ She felt he was stalling. ‘Must it be so, no exploration? By that, I mean no people exploring, just robots. Could I not be an exception? After all, I am a primitive, from hundreds of years ago?’ She paused, her eyes dreamy, far away, as if there was something within the walls of her simple cabin, an inner landscape that stretched endlessly. ‘After all, I helped save a world. Faced danger. Risked a lot, and lost my family and my life as I knew it.’

  ‘There is something,’ he said carefully.

  ‘Really – you mean I can have hope?’

  ‘In a way, yes … perhaps.’ He paused, his deep-brown eyes seeing an inner distance. She recognized the signs – imminent teleportation. He leant forward and took her hands. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Partly, she did mind, but decided to go along with it. She raised her eyes to the ceiling and waited.

  The tr
ansition was instantaneous.

  They stood on a glass-type surface that curved beneath an evening sky where two pale moons seemed to rest on nearby hills. Nearer, in an unusual play of perspective, a green ocean splashed foam onto white sand. A few people and children played along the sand, collecting stones, some surfing, voices remote yet clear in the shadows of a sinking sun.

  She realized that the glass surface was a government building. The Field, which she understood was the fabric of this world’s infrastructure, created the environment as people moved about in it. She found it unsettling and preferred her personal habitat out on the prairie, which she allowed to stay permanent.

  A crystal open-plan office panorama manifested with people walking slowly through a maze of holos, semi-visible keyboards, and floating clusters of icons and symbols.

  Danton gestured politely towards an arrangement of arm chairs that had mushroomed out of nowhere. A man in a soft-white, one-piece suit appeared and sank into a chair close to hers. He was followed by an assortment of individuals in a wide variety of clothing and hairstyles, all of which she found difficult to take in.

  ‘Flower-of-Sands, welcome.’ The man extended a long arm and shook her hand. ‘My name is Melange-Lo. I am overseer of the Institute for the Wellbeing of Resource City, which, as you may know, is the capital of Liberty Primary and of the Confederacy of Liberated Worlds here in the galaxy The Throne of Ramold, known by your Earth friends as The Large Magellanic Cloud, a name we rather like. These are my assistants and partners.’ He raised an arm and gave a broad sweep across his assembled entourage. ‘We are responsible for the smooth running of just about everything everywhere. We extend all aspects of hospitality to you. Please, would you care for refreshment?’

  ‘Thank you, no. That is unnecessary. Excuse me if I seem impolite, but why am I here?’

  ‘Please, you are not impolite, and you can, of course, leave at any time.’ He paused for a few moments; his expression kindly, almost humorous, as if nothing could ever shake the atmosphere of wellbeing that hung over the place. ‘To answer your question, we have a problem; a deeply old-fashioned problem, and one that could benefit from your help.’

  Flower-of-Sands looked curiously at Danton, and then at Melange-Lo. Her heart fluttered with expectation. ‘How?’ she whispered.

  ‘Following your ill-fated return from the Home Galaxy, during which you survived over eight hundred of our years of accidently prolonged deep space hibernation, we understand that you are interested in exploration, in – I think the term you have used several times – adventure.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, that is my wish, so far unfulfilled.’

  ‘Well, maybe we can help you fulfil your wish.’

  The directness of this statement threw her. She remained silent, but her curiosity was obvious.

  Melange-Lo took a deep breath and turned his appealing, attentive gaze on her. He spoke slowly.

  ‘There has been a report from the Home Galaxy, which we understand you like to call the Milky Way, of two unexplained and extraordinary disappearances from the planet Earth. This is alarming to the people of Earth, and indeed to us, as it heralds the possibility of the return to crime on a world aspiring to galactic status. Therefore, the matter does warrant investigation.’

  ‘Disappearances? Who are the people who have disappeared?’ Flower-of-Sands asked. ‘Can you tell me about them?’

  Melange-Lo seemed rather surprised at this request, although he promptly responded. ‘In both cases, they are people one may describe as geniuses, people who can change the way we see the universe, and who can illicit momentous changes for the benefit of their societies.’ He paused, causing Flower-of-Sands to feel impatient, before continuing. ‘One is a young man of extraordinary musical talent and the other a young woman student, who, although young, has displayed great creative ability in physics, mathematics, and astronomy; both are destined for greatness.’

  Flower-of-Sands said nothing, but continued to gaze intently at Melange-Lo, hoping that eventually he would disclose how this related to her.

  ‘With our discovery of the Field,’ Melange-Lo continued, ‘the need for travel in the interstellar and intergalactic sense dwindled, especially regarding intergalactic travel. The Field provides such richness and freedom of experience, such ability to create and sculpt our individual and sociological lives, that travelling seems irrelevant. The great races, the Shiloramedel and the Zanasareen, have returned from whence they came. We have retained, of course, many of their technologies, including the magnificent Shiloramedel intergalactic primary drives …’

  ‘Of course,’ Flower-of-Sands whispered ironically.

  ‘But our need for them has all but disappeared and they have fallen into disuse and probably, I regret to say, disrepair, if I can use such a term in relation to them. They belong to the past, to a golden age, wonderful to behold from our advanced position, but no longer relevant. Until now … ‘

  ‘How do you know about the Earth people, the man and the woman …?’ She was feeling bored and impatient for him to reveal her part in this.

  Danton unexpectedly entered the conversation. ‘We are in constant communication with Earth through the medium of the Field. We have representatives from our civilization there. And we have limited travel to and from the Home Galaxy, using an enhanced version of our FTL interstellar drive.’

  ‘Faster than Light. So, you do have intergalactic capability?’

  ‘To a limited degree. The Throne of Ramold is satellite to the Home Galaxy. The distances are small, astronomically speaking.’

  ‘Is Earth investigating these so-called disappearances?’

  ‘No,’ Melange-Lo came in. ‘Although Earth has made astonishing advances, and has in certain restricted areas developed an aptitude with the Field, it still does not have the technology to pursue these disappearing individuals.’

  ‘I see, at least I think I do …’

  ‘However, investigators working for us in Earth cities called Washington and Paris, and using aspects of the Field, have traced the footprint pathway of the two disappearing individuals from the Earth Solar System, out of the Home Galaxy, the Milky Way, to the Great Wheel, what Earth astronomers call the Triangulum Galaxy or M33.’

  Excitement stirred in Flower-of-Sands solar plexus. Suddenly, she had an inkling of where Melange-Lo was heading.

  ‘The Spinning Wheels galaxy, the M33,’ she said with a breaking voice, revealing her excitement. ‘It is one of my favourites. I have been trying to initiate an expedition there, but so far, my efforts have been unrewarded. Blocked is probably a better word.’

  ‘Not blocked, my child. We simply do not have the way with all at hand. Until …’ Melange-Lo placed his hands together, as if about to pray. ‘Until now’

  ‘But your scientists have exceptional knowledge.’ Flower-of-Sands said incredulously. ‘Surely, they can resurrect these intergalactic super drives, so called.’ Flower-of-Sands tone was heavily ironic.

  ‘Could – probably. Do – probably not. They are engrossed in other areas, mostly the inner reaches of the Field. The disappearance of individuals on planet Earth is not on their list of priorities. Moreover, they cannot be bothered with ‘drives’, intergalactic or otherwise. However, there is one ...’

  ‘And what about the intergalactic super drive that fuelled my ship from the Milky Way. What has become of that?’

  Melange-Lo looked slightly put out. ‘To the best of my knowledge, it was burnt out, gutted. However, there is one …’

  ‘But why me?’ Flower-of-Sands interrupted again, almost ahead of herself. ‘I am, after all, not a great scholar, neither am I a real astronaut. I’m good at fighting, so they say. Apart from that, I’m just a young woman who happens to be over eight hundred years old.’

  Melange-Lo continued to hold his hands in the prayer position. ‘Fighting gives you an edge that could be useful, but more importantly you are experienced with Earth, and you understand crime, you have had first-hand experience
of dealing with it.’

  ‘You make me sound like a delinquent.’

  ‘Not at all, my dear; your experience could prove vital. You know Earth, the people, how they think, and you have first-hand experience of crime, killing.’

  ‘Why is that so important?’

  Melange-Lo at last released the prayer position. ‘Earth wants to be part of the Confederacy. In many ways, Earth qualifies. But she needs to be free of war and crime – as I said. Now she may not be. These disappearances are highly unusual. Earth has been free of war and, apparently, crime for hundreds of years, but these disappearances could be the harbingers of a return to deviant behaviour. They need someone who understands crime, who has experienced it first hand, and who has astronaut experience, and has experience of Earth people. You, my dear, are just such a person.’

  Flower-of-Sands was silent as she considered the import of Melange-Lo’s words. ‘Yes, I do fit the profile, as it were. If I go, I will need a team. And who is the ‘one’ who can help, about whom you began to tell me – before I so rudely interrupted you?’

  ‘There is an expert in esoteric drives and energies. He may be able to answer you. We will give you access to him.’

  ‘Esoteric? How come? I thought the Field was esoteric.’

  ‘As I said, we have little interest in travel beyond our galaxy and the Home Galaxy. We feel investigating these disappearances are what you need to give you a sense of purpose. We are allowing you to take charge, find people who can help you, and choose your team. We have much to do concerning the smooth and uninterrupted running of this world and others.’ He paused. ‘Now, with the greatest of good will, I am terminating this interview. We have much to do. The project is yours, if you want it.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then we leave it in your capable hands.’

  Flower-of-Sands rose awkwardly, despondency wrapping around her like a wet blanket. They don’t wish to be bothered with the disappearances, she thought. They regard the whole thing as beneath them. They are palming it off onto me. How strange.