Authors: Karen Lord
. . . and suddenly vanished.
This was a real transit. The vertigo was intense, like the difference between looking over a two-storey balcony and staring up (or down) an orbital spire. Rafi reached towards the centre and anchor of the Wall and kept his focus there as the frequency soared into higher chimes and cooler hues, rising and falling in volume and brightness as the Wall tumbled (or was it the universe that spun?) endlessly down and then, with a tug, flew effortlessly up until the colours grew warmer, the sounds hummed lower and once more everything returned to a gentle buzz.
Days later, meditating on the experience, Rafi would wonder what that lowest point signified. He wondered what they would see if they stopped the Wall there, and if indeed either stopping or seeing was possible in that place.
He shook his head and started to unfasten himself from the Wall. Unlike mindship travel, the transits energised him. He wanted to leap past all the ledges and jump down to the surface of this new place he had never seen, but he made himself move soberly and show respect for Sadira, the largest graveyard of humanity the galaxy had ever known. He also remembered to unlatch the pods nearest to him before he finally touched ground – and immediately stumbled over his own feet, tricked by slight increase in gravity.
Teruyai jumped down beside him, staring around her. ‘Look at this,’ she said. ‘Look.’
The new biodome on Sadira was small and rudimentary but strong, set to the maximum possible specifications for hostile atmosphere and temperatures beyond the border, and showing a slight shimmer at its apex. Most of its floor was shielded from ground contamination, which meant that the edge of the dome rode high on its own artificial plateau. The centre was a hollow with bare ground visible, and it was there that showed signs of life and work: a few low shelters scattered around the transit platform and several installations that resembled greenhouses, one of which appeared to burrow into the ground like a huge glass well.
What could be seen of the land past the boundary looked burned and naked of debris.
A small ground crew approached them, most of them familiar faces from Punartam. Rafi noted with interest that the majority were Ainya academics and technicians. They did a quick medical assessment of the Vanguard runners and passengers, then allowed them to roam the area while the engineers performed checks of the Wall and the transit. Rafi walked along the circumference, looking at the scorched landscape, his emotions swinging from exhilaration to terror as he thought of how far they had come, the thin protection of the biodome and the emptiness of the world beyond.
‘If I could, I would make every person who had any kind of desire to serve or rule the galaxy come to this point to stand here and look.’
The bitterness in Teruyai’s voice pulled Rafi’s attention back to her. She, too, had been roaming the circumference of the dome and looking out restlessly as if hoping to see something, anything that appeared remotely recognisable.
He looked at her anxiously. ‘Let’s go back,’ he said.
‘No, wait. There’s something I want to do.’
She went to the centre of the dome, avoiding the path to the grounded transit, and knelt to touch the small area of safe, treated ground. It was unevenly graded, gravel and small rocks and stone dust all mixed together. She surreptitiously picked up three small stones, closed her fist around them and sighed. Then she stepped close to Rafi, took one and gave it to him.
‘There,’ she said. ‘It’s precious. Don’t tell or—’ She stopped to laugh weakly. ‘Or everyone will want one.’
Rafi touched her hand gently. ‘Don’t worry, Teruyai. When we come back, there’ll be more.’
She put an arm about his waist and they walked back to the transit platform, leaning against each other for comfort.
*
The port was sited several kilometres away from Janojya, beside the channel that carried the city’s warm current of treated waste water. The building was ancient, relying on old, common forms of insulation and protection rather than a full biodome, but the temperatures at the coast were sufficiently mild and stable that no more was required. A reinforced, insulated, transparent wall shielded the observation deck from the outside air and offered a clear view of the gently surging water in the protected bay. Swirls of colour heightened the wave patterns where warm water met cold and traces of algae bloomed.
Second Lieutenant Lian stood and watched the water, waiting.
After a while, Serendipity got up from her seat and joined Lian. ‘There’s still a little time before the scouting mission returns from Terra,’ she noted timidly.
‘I know,’ said Lian, not at all rudely, and yet without invitation for further conversation.
Serendipity stayed for a while, shifting her feet awkwardly, then turned to go back to her seat.
‘I notice that all the test runs are being coordinated from here, and I’ve also heard that the transit from Punartam to Cygnus Beta no longer works. Does this mean that Ntshune will be the hub for all galactic transits?’ Lian enquired.
‘Well, yes, but only initially, while we’re still doing test runs and other experiments. We don’t want to lose anyone by rushing things, and it’s very important that we develop the necessary training for the transit operators. I don’t know why that transit doesn’t work any more. Perhaps they shut it down so the cartels couldn’t use it?’
‘Perhaps,’ Lian admitted.
That was almost friendly, and certainly less preoccupied. Serendipity felt a little bolder. ‘Was that why you came here by mindship instead of transit?’ she asked. ‘Were you afraid it might malfunction?’
‘Honestly, a little,’ said Lian, still gazing out at the mesmerising, iridescent ripple of the current. ‘But I don’t adapt well to galactic travel at the best of times. They tried to take me through the transits but I had some issues.’
Curiosity won over politeness. ‘Issues?’ Serendipity asked timidly.
‘Hallucinations, or perhaps they were nightmares. Maybe I can’t handle the level of consciousness needed for a transit. I appreciate that the advantage of a well-done transit is being able to walk around seconds after arriving, but I don’t mind being knocked out. I don’t want to know I’m travelling— What—? What
is
that? By the Destroyer, do you see that?’
Serendipity looked away from Lian’s suddenly panicked face. The current, which should have been gentled with the weight of slush and the snarl of algae, had become a surge. They both stumbled back, uselessly slow and with no higher floor to escape to, as the water rushed up and hit the lower half-metre of the massive viewport window with a booming slap. Mercifully, whatever glass, gem or metal had gone into the making of the walls and windows, they did not crack or shatter. The water receded just as quickly, but now there was something more than algae-pink ice and slush to be seen, something which made Serendipity’s heart race. Two mindships thrashed dangerously close to the port building, struggling to free themselves from each other. Serendipity saw the problem: the passenger module of one ship was snagged in a shredded and thoroughly tangled mesh that half-covered the other ship.
Port crews were already running to their hovercrafts. Serendipity shouted at them to stop, but only a few figures turned and glanced at her before hastening on. In that moment, out of instinct and terror, she did something she had never done before.
‘
Stop!
’ she cried, putting the full force of her mind behind the command.
Everyone faltered or staggered. She had their attention.
‘You can’t go out there. There’s nothing we can do. Wait. The rest are coming.’
The crew leader began to walk towards her. ‘How can you—?’
There was a loud crack. The module had shattered, releasing its pods into the icy water and scoring the mindships so deeply that the slush and water turned a deeper hue than the tint of algae. Serendipity almost wept, feeling the anguish and pain from the two ships. High waves surged out from the writhing ships again, making the crew leader pause and reassess.
‘Get the pods if you can,’ she said. ‘But leave the mindships alone! They’re too massive for us to handle.’
She turned to say something to Lian and was stunned to see the second lieutenant sitting on the floor, dazed, head in hands.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dropping to her knees and putting a hand cautiously on Lian’s shoulder. ‘I had to be loud. They weren’t listening.’
‘Uh.’ Lian’s head slowly came up. Serendipity placed a gentle, supporting hand under Lian’s ear, trying to ease some of the concussion.
While Serendipity was focused on Lian, Lian’s eyes drifted to the outside view again. ‘Here they are. How did you know?’
Serendipity glanced up and saw several mindships skilfully and carefully breaching the water’s surface. They barely paused. They immediately furled themselves around the bleeding mass of the broken ships, forming a restraining, healing embrace.
‘That’s what they do,’ she said. ‘They know how to take care of each other.’
Lian slowly got up with Serendipity’s help. They went to the ground floor and waited at the berths with the medical crews. When the hovercrafts returned, five pods were offloaded and laid out carefully on the dock. One of them, broken and oozing far too much red matter, was respectfully hidden beneath a dark cover. A medic came and looked under the fabric, but lowered it again within seconds.
Technicians and medics carefully opened the other four. Serendipity felt Lian tense, as if bracing for the worst. They came closer, close enough to see the faces without obstructing the medics. As they walked beside the pods, Lian exhaled a slow breath, relaxing more and more with each face recognised.
‘Revered Waneshianeso, field specialist of Academe Bhumniastraya. Mission Captain Dan Fergus o-Muir i-Tlaxce, survivalist and security expert. Doctor Daniyel . . .’ Lian lost almost all breath with relief. ‘Good, good, excellent. And Mission Corporal Zariah Fa o-Vayanir i-Tlaxce, administrator and technologist.’ Lian’s head bowed briefly. ‘I should see who is in the broken pod. It is probably Asirianeso, assistant to Revered Waneshianeso.’
‘Take your time,’ Serendipity said faintly. ‘Let us step back and give the medics a chance to do their work.’
*
The glass cells of the medical centre were programmed to adjust to the patient’s comfort. Dr Daniyel had chosen a muted, warm illumination like shaded sunlight and kept one of the cells transparent to the view of the park outside. She was more than alive; she was alert, grieving, determined. The crash had caused internal injuries which would take time to heal, but she insisted on a debriefing for the Terra transit.
A small group clustered around her reclining bed: Lian, standing attentively nearby, watching her for signs of pain or weakness; Fergus, brooding and uncomfortable on a motorised chair with his leg encased in a support that braced the bones and fed nutrients and painkillers to his blood supply; Isahenalaatye, subdued and clearly in the grip of that high-level, eerily calm panic which can result when unusual crises push a man far, far beyond his job description; and Serendipity, wide-eyed and worried, still traumatised by the incident at the port.
‘I was told,’ Dr Daniyel said, speaking slowly and softly, ‘that there were two or more transit sites on Terra. Is that correct?’
Isahena cleared his throat and answered. ‘The practice was for every planet to have at least two transits to allow for maintenance or accidents, but there could be more depending on available locations and population density.’
‘We went through one, from Punartam. The cartels seized that one from us at the same time as they attacked the Academes. We were guarding the Punartam side, of course, and we did not expect an ambush from the Terra side.’
‘So that is what happened?’ Isahena asked, resigned. ‘The cartels are that well entrenched on Terra?’
Dr Daniyel nodded slowly. Lian instinctively offered her water from a bottle at her bedside. She accepted it with a smile and took a few cautious sips before handing it back.
‘We went to find the second transit. We had visited it before but it was not functioning, so we left it alone for the time being. We went carefully, expecting it to be guarded by Zhinuvians.’
‘It was guarded by Sadiri,’ Fergus said grimly.
‘And we thought, “Hooray, we’re saved!”.’ Dr Daniyel’s mocking tone ended in an unhappy chuckle.
‘First they questioned us about breaking embargo. We could have asked them the same thing, but we only pleaded extenuating circumstances and asked to send a message to Punartam or even Ntshune, as it was closer. That was how we managed to contact you at first.’
‘That message was very carefully phrased,’ Lian commented.
‘It had to be. Then we heard nothing.’
Lian scoffed. ‘We replied. We sent the proofs about what happened with the Academes, the nature of your research, the permissions you had been given. Then
we
heard nothing. That’s why we sent the scouting mission.’
‘And one of them found us and got us out of there, but after that I don’t know what happened.’
Serendipity spoke up. ‘They sent another mindship to stop you. We questioned the pilot, and his ship is recovering.’
‘But why did it attack us? I never thought they would attack each other.’
Serendipity tried to explain. ‘It was a collision, not an attack. The mindship was covered in some kind of interference mesh. I suppose it works against Terran sonar. The mindships were too close as they were coming in and they got tangled.’
Dr Daniyel nodded. ‘That’s a small relief. I couldn’t bear to think of mindships fighting. Bad enough that New Sadira is on Terra.’
‘We’re the ones late to the game,’ Isahena said ruefully. ‘New Sadira is closest to Terra, and they could argue that they know about the Zhinuvians and are trying to enforce the embargo with limited resources. I don’t know any more. All I know is that New Sadira is not communicating or cooperating with us, and we still don’t have a working transit on Terra. We’ll have to work with the Zhinu A specialists to make a new one.’
‘We must go back to Terra.’ Dr Daniyel sounded weaker and Lian looked at her with concern. ‘I was tasked to design an encounter programme to end the embargo gradually, without disruption and exploitation. It’s all useless now. There’s been too much interference. I don’t know how we’re going to salvage this.’