Voyage to Alpha Centauri: A Novel (61 page)

“This really is a city”, I said to Dariush.

“One might become lost”, he answered.

Xue walked a few steps ahead of us, chatting with the Commander and the other two, who were wearing the insignia of lieutenant commanders, heads of KC sections.

I overheard chuckles and snatches of conversation, dismissive references to the nature of DSI “attitudes”. Of course, I already knew that KC people were somewhat independent personalities. Paul’s friends, the shuttle pilots, for example, were bona fide mavericks, but I had attributed this to the psychology of the few men in our world who were able to transcend the force of gravity, alone and in charge of their magnificent craft, facing the dangers of the lonely skies and the infinity above.

“They’re so arrogant; they think they rule the world”, muttered one of the officers.

“Well, they do”, replied the other with disgust.

“It’s a big world and a bigger universe”, said the Commander. “They’ll need to print more of their little manuals.”

These fellows seemed to have retained the semi-independence of the man of the sea, the man with his eyes on horizons. That their independence was limited by the state of our world and its government would surely be plain enough to them. Nevertheless, the conversation implied that they had made their own judgments about it, had broken out of the mind-box. Perhaps this was possible because the government was as dependent upon them and their expertise as they were upon it. Thus, the uneasy coexistence between the true man in a community of common purpose and the bureaucratic male in a collective of common uniformity.

Such thoughts preoccupied me until we approached a dividing wall near the foremost section of KC—the ship’s actual command center. We did not enter it, but instead turned right into a cross street and through a double door into the Captain’s personal quarters. This, as it turned out, was an annex with a conference room, three small private rooms (presumably bedroom, bathroom, and study), and a fairly spacious dining room. The Commander brought us into the latter, where we were greeted by a tall, silver-haired man, rising from the head of a long, oval dining table. He was about my age, dressed in casuals, relaxed and warm, but exuding an unstated authority. He shook hands with Xue, Dariush, and me, introductions were made, and then he stepped back to allow Paul and Pia to greet us. Welcoming banter followed. Pia did not get up from her chair but flashed me a big smile.

“How ya doin’,
Mamacita
?” I asked, sizing up her belly in a glance.

“Purdy darn good.”

“Countdown begun?”

“Yup, six weeks to go.”

“Everything healthy?”

“Mother and child doin’ well.”

“Wonderful, wonderful”, I murmured and gave her our customary little pats on the back. I suddenly wished I had a gun to defend her with. But then I saw the valiant Paul, beaming with pride and love, and remembered his mastodon killer and his sword.

The Captain took charge and asked us all to find seats around the table. A dinner was wheeled in on carts, and servants placed steaming platters and tureens before our place settings, which were genuine ceramic plates, silverware, and glasses. I chatted with one of the servants, a Hispanic lad who came from, of all places, Santa Fe. I invited him to visit me in my cabin if we ever make it back to Earth. He enthusiastically accepted the invitation, and added that he would like to buy property and build a cabin in my neighborhood, after he has purchased a home for his mother and father and several cousins. I knew the scene. I knew the scene very well actually, and wrote out my address for him on a paper napkin, which he pocketed with satisfaction.

The meal was a mixture of Earth-origin vegetables grown in the Base-main gardens, plus some small fruit items in salad greens from the ship’s hydroponics garden, followed by the main dishes of nova-turkey and nova-salmon, in sauces.

I would like to add as a note of special interest that the vegetables were running with authentic butter brought from Earth by the Captain. This incredible item had been frozen in cold storage and thawed for this moment.

“It must have cost a fortune!” I declared when I put a real buttered carrot into my mouth and closed my eyes in ecstasy.

“It did”, said our host with a whimsical smile. “And may I mention, dear gentlemen, lady, and baby, so did the wine. It is black-market, made somewhere aboard this ship, of which I am ostensibly the master. I asked no questions, and no lies were told to me. Please, sample it.”

We did. It was nova-berry, aged well. A delightful evening ensued.

Did I mention that the Captain’s correct English is accented? He was born in the city of Siauliai, in the “republic” of Lietuva (old Lithuania). He began his career many decades ago with aeronautical studies in Vilnius, Berlin, and Brussels, steadily rising in the world-fleet. He piloted the first expedition to Mercury and was involved in establishment of the Mars base-colony. Later, he was the first man to land on Pluto.

He told us fascinating stories about that “cold, cold” event and about “warm, warm” Mercury. Paul’s three pilot friends (Vladimir, Jan, and Loka) were present at the supper and contributed anecdotes as well. As the conversation unfolded, it was clear that they shared a trans-ethnic fondness for dark humor. They kept everyone laughing, even our rather somber Dariush and the gravely responsible Commander. In retrospect, I’m not sure what we found so funny, but perhaps that was not the point.

The conversation turned to the behavior of the two DSI agents at the elevator. The Captain and his second-in-command listened to this latest development, frowning and exchanging looks with each other. The Captain sipped from his wine glass, then leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Everyone else fell silent, wondering what he would make of it.

“How did they know about my invitation to you?” he said at last, as if to himself.

No one replied. Doubtless, the possibility of an informant on KC crossed more than one mind.

“Maybe they are now watching all elevators leading to KC”, suggested a lieutenant commander.

“They exceed their limits”, said the Captain. “It is, how do you say,
ultra vires
, beyond the law.”

“That is unclear”, commented the Commander “We seem to have a gray zone here. They can’t countermand your authority on KC, nor invade this concourse. But they are testing the perimeters of their authority, it would seem.”

“It is good you resisted them”, the Captain said, turning to the two lieutenant commanders who had rescued us. “Nevertheless, it presents new problems. It raises the question of whether or not it would be wise for Dr. Hoyos to return to deck B and other regions below.”

“Oh, I fully intend to return to my own room this evening”, I answered.

“If you wish. I hope you understand that it will present a counter-test. And I am not certain about defending you down there.”

“I may not need defense. There’s always a coward hiding inside a bully. I’ve got nothing to lose, and it would be interesting to call their bluff.”

“Neil, it’s hardly a bluff”, Pia interjected.

“I will lend you my sword”, said Paul with a half-smile.

“Do DSI people have weapons?” I asked.

“I have seen no instance of them carrying one”, said the Captain. “But I would think they have weapons in reserve, in case of emergencies.”

“A talking mouth and the Manual are always enough of a threat”, said Jan in a tone of driest contempt. “Or freezing of Uni-credits for the really stubborn.”

Loka laughed and added, “We have a proverb in my country. We say, the lizard knows the condition of his underbelly, and that is why he keeps it pressed against the ground.”

“Let us hope he does”, smiled the Captain.

“We also say, the lizard would like to stand erect, but his tail will not permit him.”

“Yes, but has anyone ever resisted the lizard with force?” I asked.

Heads around the table shook in the negative. No one had ever witnessed any real revolt.

“My own form of resistance is within the lines of protocol”, said the Captain. “Dr. Skinner in a most courteous and menacing letter has informed me that my attitude is uncooperative. He is correct in this. We can be grateful that the designers of
Kosmos
installed private communications for me. I can send messages to Earth-base without our friends in DSI monitoring or blocking. Yet for the time being we are at something of an impasse. We must wait nine years for a proper hearing. DSI knows this. They also know that the authorities at home will want an accounting of their behavior. They will go more carefully now.”

Xue said, “They are extremely careful but not invincible, certainly not omniscient. There’s the question of David Ayne’s death, for example. We have proof that a murder has taken place. We have the private autopsy report.”

“Unofficial, written by a nervous doctor”, I said. “And we have a bucket-full of coincidences. Even now, we’re uncertain about what happened and why it happened.”

As our thoughts returned to the deceased man, a pall descended on the company. But there was really nothing more that could be said about the unresolved questions, other than chewing our guesses to death.

Turning to Xue, the Captain asked him about the discoveries in the three towers. Xue gave him a detailed account. One of the lieutenant commanders, the chief of flight-crew astronomy, asked Xue if his committee had now concluded that the towers had been used primarily for astronomical purposes. Xue replied that while no definitive conclusion had been reached, he and his colleagues were fairly certain that the towers were indeed for such purposes. If that was the case, the three spheres were probably elevated and exposed only at night, for reading what was happening in our home solar system, and other systems. The middle sections of each tower were full of star maps on bronze plates. Those examined to date were found to be mapped from a “topocentric” perspective, he said—meaning ground-based, specifically as observed from the towers.

He paused, thinking quietly, then added that he wouldn’t rule out the possibility that the towers had been a source of solar power for the ship, supplementary to the nuclear.

“We are uncertain about the full range of energy design. The presence of radioactivity and propulsion tubes at the base of the vessel point to nuclear fusion, but again, how it worked is not yet clear. Next week, when the theorists and committees have all had their say, the rear third of the ship will be opened. Then we will have more facts to weigh.”

Dariush now spoke up for the first time. “I concur with Dr. Xue regarding the towers’ purpose. All the star maps have been scanned and analyzed by the computer. Decryption of the hieroglyphic text on each map reveals that it is technical in nature. Their vocabulary in this field was quite well developed, and some of it remains obscure to us.”

“What perplexes me”, I said, “is that the temple tablets, the three gold codices, were written in a primitive style. It just doesn’t seem to match with their technological language—and their accomplishments.”

“This is true. Of course, they are much older documents. We should also keep in mind that religious codices, even certain nonreligious codices, might have been written in an elitist or gnostic style, that is to say, a form of temple language.”

“Poetic?”

“Yes, like an epic poem written in traditional style, one that moves the reader or listener by appealing to subjective feelings. As is the case with our own present civilization, a treatise on biology or astrophysics is rational thought expressed in a different form and style than, say, a poem or a song. The brain’s logic faculty is not needed for the latter; the creative intuition faculty is dominant, both in the composing and the listener’s inference.”

Xue said, “That is so, my friend, yet the poem or song is dependent on a thought or a concept, and is not necessarily irrational. It may be
meta
-rational.”

“Mmmm”, said Dariush, pondering this, swept into a vortex of his own rumination on the point.

Because few in the room were much interested in this sidetrack, the general conversation returned to the mechanics and optics of the towers and their relationship to the “eyes” of the “god” on the cliff face above the temple of the ship.

Everyone had seen photos or vids of it, but, oddly enough, only a minority of those present had seen images of the god in the temple crypt. I assumed this was because a plethora of scientific and historical material had been discovered at the same time, and thus the sculpture had not captured more than a passing interest. While it is human nature to be fascinated with morbidity, the attraction is a transient one. People can’t look at horror for long.

Dariush, returning from his voyage to inner space, now spoke up. He described for us the sculpture’s purposes, and added other significant findings, such as the fact that the hundreds of thousands of skeletons in the temple were those of children. He finished with a verbal sketch of the sacrificial rites as they were recorded in the gold codex-3.

People fell silent, frowning, quietly shaking their heads in disgust, or simply staring at the table top. No one knew what to say.

Xue leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. In his quiet voice, toneless, he recited:

     The great snake lies ever half awake, at the bottom of the pit of the world, curled

     In folds of himself until he awakens in hunger and moving his head to right and to left prepares for his hour to devour.

     But the Mystery of Iniquity is a pit too deep for

     Mortal eyes to plumb. Come

     Yet out from among those who prize the serpent’s golden eyes,

     The worshippers, self-given sacrifice of the snake.

     Take your way and be ye separate.

     Be not too curious of Good and Evil;

     Seek not to count the future waves of Time;

     But be ye satisfied that you have light

     Enough to take your step and find your foothold.

     O Light Invisible, we praise Thee!

None among the assembled guests responded. Dariush gazed at Xue thoughtfully. Pia’s eyes glistened with tears. Paul nodded in unspoken agreement. The Captain stared at his empty glass, then reached for the bottle.