“That’s understandable, Max. You were struggling to escape danger. This kind of triple system might have been anywhere in the Galaxy.”
“You do believe me?”
“You’re here. There’s no way you three could have been left behind ten years ago, and you wouldn’t have survived if you had been. You’re not sure where this alien sphere that swallowed your habitat is located?”
“It was waiting for us, but exactly where I don’t know. The habitat was making its approach to Saturn’s Titan docks when the stars disappeared, then reappeared. We seemed to be jumping in and out of normal space, and each time we got closer to the Sun. Then just as it seemed that we would plunge into the Sun, it became ghostly. We passed into it and were drawn toward a giant black sphere, where the Sun should have been.” Max’s mind raced with excitement as he began to suspect the larger reasons for what had happened.
Lucian Russell shook his head in amazement. “Supertechnology. It’s all around us, from what you’ve told me, and has been for a long time. They’ve done so much. Makes us look like children.”
“Every place we came out seemed deserted,” Max said, sitting up suddenly. “Doctor Russell—”
“Lucky, please. No one’s ever suggested more possibilities to me than you have today.”
“We’ve got to get back as soon as possible,” Max said. “Nobody knows where we are. They’ll discover the passages, and people may get hurt looking for us. I told you how the columns spin, so you can’t tell where you came in or where you’ll come out. They’ve probably spun since we got here, so we’ll have to start all over again!”
Lucky rubbed his chin. “Maybe not, if the barrier is still blocking our terminal. It does seem deliberate, the way they got you here. Maybe you were meant to get lost and find your way here. Emil’s getting hurt was an accident, of course, but I think they might have wanted human beings to become aware of the passage system, to learn how it works, especially to find this link between Earth and Centauri. It means that our colony won’t be cut off by decades of slow, relativistic space travel. Living out here won’t be the isolation from Earth that we expected. People will be able to go back and forth at will. It changes everything for us.”
“But if this was meant to happen, why don’t they show themselves? What if they built this system a long time ago, and there’s no one left?”
“I hope that’s not true.”
“Or maybe the way we were lured into the system is just their kind of instruction course, operating on automatic for anyone who comes by.”
“Could be, but I hope it’s not just a blind program. You’ve been thinking about what you’ve seen, haven’t you?”
“We’ve got to get back,” Max said softly.
Lucky nodded. “I’ll go back with you, if the passage lets us. Don’t have any strong personal ties to hold me, even if my friends might miss me.” Max dimly recalled that the man had been something of a loner. “But I’m needed for a lot of things here, so I’ll have to prepare others to fill in for me.”
“We could try to get back on our own,” Max said.
Lucky smiled at him. “I’m sure you could. They can do without me here for a week or two, but what if I can’t come right back?” He laughed. “Four light-years, and I’ll be right back. Never thought I’d say such a thing in my lifetime and mean it. But if the passage closes up, the only way I’d be able to return is by slow starship. I don’t want to lose the years of work I’ve put in to make the habitat work, but I think I should go with you.”
“But you will get back,” Max said, “if they meant for us to find and use the system.”
“We’re still only guessing about why you were lured into the system. As you said, it could have been a series of accidents, or an old automatic program.”
Max started to get out of bed. Lucky lifted a hand, as if about to restrain him. “It’s all right,” Max said. “I don’t really feel sick any more.”
“Lucinda’s room is through that door,” Lucky said, pointing. “You’ll find fresh clothes in the closet. There’s a cafeteria down the hall. You and Lucinda get something to eat. I’ll go brief some people on what you’ve told me.”
As he left, Max went over to the closet. The fresh clothes were his own, newly cleaned. He dressed quickly, went over to Lucinda’s door and was about to knock, but hesitated, trying to sort out his feelings. She was very important to him now. The tenderness he felt for her surprised him.
He knocked twice.
“Come in,” she answered.
Max brushed the touchplate with his fingers, and the door slid open. Lucinda sat in a chair, wearing her own shirt, shorts, and hiking shoes, playing nervously with the ends of her long hair.
“I saw Emil,” she said, looking up with tears in her eyes. “He’s very sick.”
Max went to her as she stood up. They embraced, and she held him close. At home, Max realized, he had seen only her pride and intelligence. He would not have guessed that she was also soft and caring. Emil was not unlike her, but more dependent on his sister than he would admit. Both were as vulnerable inside as he was, reaching out to others as well as they could, and hurting when they failed.
“We should eat something,” he said finally.
She drew away from him, avoiding his gaze, and he wondered if she would care for him when they got home.
They went out the door, down a long hallway, and stopped at a picture window, where they looked out into the Centauri habitat. Even after ten years, much of it was still unfinished, but the incurving land of the asteroid hollow was mostly green. The sunplate was a bright, clear yellow. Buildings were under construction everywhere. Max saw people working overhead, landscaping, cutting pathways and roads. A stream ran around the equatorial region of the egg-shaped space. There was more than enough room for the small population to grow.
Lucinda took his hand. They watched the new world at work, and Max felt hopeful.
After eating, he and Lucinda sat and watched people come and go through the cafeteria. There were nurses and doctors, maintenance people, parents and children. Max looked for people he might know from the time before the colonists moved into this habitat, but it was unlikely that he would recognize anyone after ten years, even when faces seemed familiar. He had been born as his habitat-starship entered the Centauri system, and had been only seven when it left. He had visited this habitat during its construction, but he remembered only a dark, muddy asteroid cavern lit by harsh work lamps, filled with the roar and whine of heavy mining machines and voices shouting over public address systems.
News of their rescue had spread quickly. Many of the people entering the cafeteria nodded in greeting, but kept away. The looks of sympathy and concern on their faces revealed that Emil’s condition was common knowledge.
As Lucinda gazed out the window, Max found himself admiring her slightly upturned nose, the way she held her perfect lips together, the pale skin of her neck. Her ears were a bit large, but they were mostly hidden by her abundant hair. She seemed to be ignoring him, and that was like the Lucinda he had watched from afar back home.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asked, feeling out of place.
Her green eyes looked at him sadly. “Emil might wake up.” She wanted to be at her brother’s side, Max realized, in the hope that he might wake from his coma before he died, and she would have a chance to say good-bye. I wonder what’s happening back home,” she added, sounding lost.
“Maybe they’ve found out what’s going on,” Max said.
Lucinda stood up, looking terrified as she stared past him. Max started to turn around.
“Oh, here you are,” Lucky said, sitting down.
Max tensed. Lucinda was trembling, as if she was expecting to hear that Emil was dead.
“There’s been no change in Emil,” Lucky said, looking up at her.
She sat down.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I shouldn’t have come up to you so abruptly.”
Lucinda took a sip of water and seemed calmer.
Lucky looked at Max and said, “We have to be in the passage, ready to go through if it opens.” He turned to Lucinda. “I know you feel you have to stay with Emil, but he is getting the best possible care. He might be unconscious for a long time.”
“But we may never be able to return here,” she said.
“Maybe the starfolk want us to get back, to establish this route.”
“Then why did they close it off?”
“We can only speculate, but maybe closing it at certain points creates enough of a delay for us to think about what we’re doing.”
Lucinda looked at Max, and he knew that if she stayed, they might never see each other again. The alien passages might close up forever, and there would be little chance that he could return to Centauri the long way; even if a ship were sent, they’d both be grown up at different ages and changed when they met again.
Max looked at her, unable to speak, and knew that her brother had to come first.
“There’s no right answer to this,” Lucky said. “You can both go or both stay, or Lucinda can stay with Emil. I can go by myself if Max can draw me a map of what you both remember, but it would be helpful if at least one of you came along. I’ll back whatever each of you decides.”
“Max and I will go,” Lucinda said decisively. “Emil will recover or he won’t, whether I’m here or not.”
Max looked at her with surprise. She looked back, and he knew how guilty she felt, because he felt the same.
“If Emil dies, and I can’t get back,” she explained, “then my parents will lose us both, so I should go back even if Max decides to stay.” She looked at him directly and said, “There’s no reason for Max to stay.”
“Staying would be the safer thing to do,” Lucky said. “From what you’ve told me, we won’t be going for a stroll.”
“We’ll get through,” Lucinda said. “I’ll see Emil before we go.”
They sat by Emil’s bed together. He was breathing regularly, but his color was a strange pasty gray with patches of brown. Marilyn had told them that all the readings coming from Emil into the diagnostic center showed a stable condition. The look on Lucinda’s face told Max that she might still decide to stay. Lucky would have to go alone if she did, he realized.
Lucinda touched her brother’s cheek. He stirred and seemed about to open his eyes. She caught her breath, but then he became still again. Lucinda got up and turned away.
“I’m ready,” she said, holding back tears. Max felt as if he were stealing her away. She noticed the look on his face and said, “This is the right thing to do. We can’t just think of ourselves.”
Max was surprised at how grown-up she sounded. They went out and found Lucky waiting in the hall. He led them to the nearby elevator, which took them down to the engineering level. From there a track shuttle whisked them to the axis spaceport at the back of the asteroid, where a snub-nosed shuttle was waiting, its shielding discolored from fiery atmospheric passages.
Lucky led them up the small ramp and forward into the cramped passenger bay, where they strapped in and watched the screen light up to show the three suns of the Centauri system.
“Here we go,” the pilot’s voice said over the intercom.
Max glanced at Lucinda. She was watching the screen as if he didn’t exist, and he realized that even though she was doing what she thought was right, her decision to leave her brother was tearing at her.
Acceleration pressed him back. A rear view of the asteroid flashed on the screen as the shuttle pulled away. The habitat looked like a potato, baking in the heat of the tri-star.
Centauri A-4 was bright in the light of its sun. As the shuttle pulled toward the daylit side, Max saw green and brown continents, a sparkling ocean, clouds and icecaps, and realized that this planet had to be only one of many worlds where the builders of the passageways had left a terminal.
Max recalled that it had been decided a long time ago not to settle any of the planets in the Centauri system, even if habitable ones were found, unless it became a matter of survival; but that would happen only if the habitat in high orbit around this fourth planet failed or was faced with danger. Exploration would continue, but nothing would be done to change the course of A-4’s evolution. The species that had shown signs of intelligence would not develop for ages yet, but it would have its chance, not realizing that an older one had decided not to interfere.
The planet filled the screen as the ship turned around on its gyros and fired braking bursts. Deceleration pressed Max into his cushions. He felt shaky and closed his eyes. Lucinda’s hand found his as the shuttle fell toward the planet, and after what seemed a long moment of weightlessness, the engines fired and stayed on. The ship vibrated. Finally, Max felt a gentle rocking motion as the craft settled down on its shocks.
They unstrapped and climbed down the ladder to the exit bay.
“There’s enough food and water in these packs for a week,” Lucky said, opening the lockers.
“We could have used these,” Max said as he put his arms through the straps and positioned the pack on his back.
“What was it like?” Lucky asked. “Did you feel forced or compelled by something outside yourselves?”
“Something seemed to know,” Lucinda replied, “that we were curious about what was outside the habitat. We had to leave it—we couldn’t stop ourselves.”
“It’s very important, what happened to you,” Lucky said.
“Sure,” Max answered bitterly. “Important enough to hurt Emil. They don’t care what happens to us.”
“The aliens didn’t hurt Emil,” Lucky said softly. “That was an accident. We’ve yet to learn what they intend toward us, if anything.”
The lock opened. They stepped in and waited for the inner door to close behind them. A breeze whipped in as the outer door opened, and Max tensed as he saw the clearing where Emil had been caught in the briars.
Lucky said, “We’ve burned a path to the forest, but be careful. This world looks Earthlike, but the biology gets strange and dangerous.”
He went down the short ramp. Max and Lucinda followed. Smells from the burnt grass filled the air.
Lucky adjusted his radio pickup to his ear and mouth. “Jim, this is Lucky. Got me?” He waited. “Okay, you’re clear.” He looked at Max. “The shuttle will wait. If the passage is open, we’ll call in another team to wait outside while we go through.”