Strangers (Stars Edge: Nel Bently Book 3) Read online

  The door ground upward, tiny square views through the portholes replaced by a hundred square feet of space. She never felt so naked as when the sheer volume of nothing spun around her, silence echoing in the vacuum. Skeletal shafts, spokes on a massive immobile wheel, led from the rings to the thin line of light that was block of hangers to the bulk of the station. Two of these spokes connected to the mouths of the ship’s cargo holds. Nel followed the others on a lurching march onto the pad suspended on the spoke’s struts.

  A second passed, then the pad clicked and slid away from the ship. Though the wheels did not turn, ahead, the great sphere of the station spun on its manufactured axis. Delicate blue-green lines and dots decorated the surface wherever shadows fell, like circuitry. The metal was the dark silver of all their technology, just shy of the black of space.

  They drew closer and the ship was not a quarter of the station’s size. It was not a tenth. It was a single dot on the face of the orb. Save for her heart hammering in her ears, blood churning under her skin, there was only stillness. Even Lin's footsteps each time she engaged the mag-boots were silent. Now Nel saw a sliver of metal, a ring, suspended around the equator, stationary while the station's surface spun beneath it. The ring held thousands of docking bays. The rhythmic crackle of coms as they maneuvered closer was a crash of electric waves to Nel.

  Another lurch that Nel only imagined in the lack of gravity. A maw of a hanger yawned before them, the open band in the rear allowing enough time for people to step from the vacuum outside to the station’s atmosphere. They fell into single file, following the dotted line across the floor. Green writing hovered overhead, her helm flickering until it settled on her chosen language:

  ARRIVALS

  They finally stepped from the hanger and into an airlock. At least, what Nel thought an airlock would look like if designed by a master of both engineering and feng shui. Everything was balanced, but not symmetrical. The door behind them slid shut. Lights rose from inky green to a calm mint. Someone engaged the second door and air filled the room. Until the hissing started, Nel hadn't realized how quiet she had been. Atmosphere restored, her suit murmured through her head. She waited until those around her unlocked their helmets before unclipping hers. Without the sheen of glass, the room was brighter. She forced herself not to gasp in the proper air.

  Warmth pressed her skin as the fabric of her suit squeezed in reassurance. I wonder if people up here hug each other less. Because of the suits. She shook the lonely thought away and caught sight of Lin, waving, by one of the doors from the airlock.

  “We’ll drop our suits and cases over there, then get scanned into the station.”

  “Do I get a tour?” Nel asked, peering at the warren of halls and the perfectly choreographed bustle. It was beautiful, in the eerie, utopian way. Nel didn’t trust it.

  “There are maps in every hub,” Lin offered, “And I can show you a few things, but I think we’re headed down soon. Briefing first!”

  Finally, actual information. Nel folded her spacesuit about as well as she would a fitted sheet, and piled it atop her case. The electromesh was tight enough to make her feel naked. How to they show their personality? Their individuality? She was so used to having to signal her place in society—cargo pants, plain leather bracelets, collared shirts all proclaiming her membership of the queer community. The suit only said she was part of IDH’s anthropology department.

  Gleaming gray halls funneled them into an open level filled with flashing signs and reminders to use the main elevator system unless on official business. Nel paused in front of a scrolling banner titled Briefings.

  “‘Samsara Excavation Crew: Level C3272 NW, Room 71A.’ Are there really 3272 levels?”

  “More,” Lin answered with a smile. “Over 3,00,000. But some are larger than others. The core alone takes up a 1000 mile radius. We’re in a series of nested spheres. We’re on level E4829 right now.”

  Nel paused by a map, finger following the corridor they stood in. “Elevators that way?” she pointed.

  “Yep! You’re quick.” The press of the crowd kept Lin’s long strides from outpacing Nel’s as they found the elevator.

  “I’m good at maps.” Nel explained. “Show me a map, I’ll get you anywhere.”

  “That’s how you survived the powerlines, eh?” Zachariah’s voice boomed from beside her as they stepped into the broad circular shaft.

  “Hey,” Nel smiled. There was something thrilling about knowing her adventure reached the stars. “I didn’t know the story got this far.”

  Lin glanced between the two, curiosity bright in her dark eyes. “You two know each other? From Earth?”

  Nel snorted. “I don’t know everyone down there, just cause we were born on the same rock.” She faltered. “Do you know everyone here?”

  Lin flushed and looked down. “No, I was just surprised.”

  Nel almost felt bad for poking fun. Almost.

  “I met fugitive-archaeology-princess here on one of my walks last night,” Zachariah explained. “You feeling any better?”

  Nel shrugged. “It’s not real yet. I’ll let you know when it is. You’re being briefed with us?”

  “Indeed. I’ll be the excavation psychologist.”

  “Awesome.” It wasn’t awesome, but Nel wasn’t about to burn another bridge. What the hell do we need a psychologist for during an excavation? Flashes of her anger, her fathomless grief from Los Cerros Esperando VII stalled her judgement. She had no idea what to expect here.

  Maybe they didn’t either.

  The platform thrummed beneath them and the walls seemed to shoot upwards as they descended. Other than the faint vibration of the floor, they could have been stationary. She was hoping for glass walls to catch glimpses of the other levels as they passed, but apparently even in space glass elevators were impractical.

  Lin’s hand squeezed hers, and she winked at Nel.

  Nel squeezed back, then extracted her hand. Her mind began its careful organizing and bolstering for before every meeting. A quick finger-comb of her hair and some squared shoulders later, Professional-Nel was fully in place.

  The doors opened on a hall identical to the one they had just left. When she stepped out, however, she saw banks of glass windows, some tinted to prevent the hall lights from penetrating. Only the door a few rooms to the left stood open. “That’s us?”

  Lin nodded. Her own professional façade was decidedly more subordinate, Nel mused. Gripping her new life by the throat, Nel stepped through the doorway first.

  Save for the floating holoscreens and decided lack of denim and tweed, it could have been any anthro department meeting. What USNE could do with this budget…. Stillness settled as she found the seat with her name projected on the table before it. A quick glance told her they were, indeed, staring.

  “I’m sorry, should I have bowed or something?”

  The broad man at the head of the table grinned, teeth bright in his dark face. “Ah, Dr. Bently, thank you for joining us. No need to bow, I promise.” Flickering blue light on the table in front of him designated him Kolonel Udara Tocho Alvarez. “We hear this is your first time on the Odyssey.” He held out his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

  “First time off Earth, actually. Thank you, sir.” She shook the hand and sat back. Lin was a few seats down, and Nel squashed her relief at the distance.

  “Well, I hope we make the experience a good one.”

  Two more people filed in, and Nel scanned the titles and names blooming on the table at their entrance. Dr. de Lellis, Dr. Julius. She faltered at the last one. Like a psychologist, she wasn’t sure what an excavation needed a combat medic for. All but thre—Lin, the coms specialist, and a burly man apparently named Hex—had Ph. D beside their names. And only a few had a rank below Kapten. The sea of different faces were a welcome break from the white monotony of most U. S. anthropology departments. Guess they’re doing something right.

  Dr. Alvarez cleared
his throat. “If anyone would like a drink, now would be the time. Otherwise, we’ll begin.” His gaze lingered on Nel.

  No one else stood, and Nel leaned forward. “Let's get started, I'm too hyped up from the docking.”

  Lights flickered across the table, then a three-dimensional image bloomed into blue being. It showed a fairly level landscape, bounded in a semi-circle by angled geometric shapes, like the fossilized maw of an alien megafauna.

  “These were structures? That piece there—what's the scale?”

  Alvarez’s laugh interrupted Nel's scholarly fixation. “Let's start at the beginning.”

  She flushed and nodded.

  “Let's talk about what you know, and what you'll need to learn before anyone sets boots or trowels on Samsara. I know my colleague, Dr. Sukarno, briefed you well, briefly, but most everyone here was informed as developments arose. You know the least. Care to tell us what you've learned about the situation so far?”

  “The situation as in, why I'm digging, or as in who you both—you and the folk down there—are?”

  “Start with the latter, perhaps. We'd like to correct any misconceptions now.”

  Nel wanted to roll her eyes, but opted for a smile instead. “I know you’re descended from a small population abducted from some hills in Chile about 14,000 years ago, according to my C-14 date. Maybe more. I know the people who abducted you are highly advanced and…” she swallowed hard. “and other than human. You were abducted so you could bring their tech to the other humans still back on Earth at a later date. You claim it was altruism. Now you think something happened to them?” Memories of just before cryo may have been fuzzy, but she remembered the orange planet on the pilot’s screen. “They’re gone?”

  “Essentially, yes. They also claimed it was altruism. Our dealings with them leading up to the disappearance, however, were intermittent at best. Negligent at worst. They inhabited the planet we are currently orbiting. From what we know, this isn't where they originated, but it's become their home.” He tapped the screen. “This is what it looked like five years ago when we last made physical contact.”

  Glowing networks of cities and roads lit the surface. Detailed shots showed massive towers and strange patterns across the surface. The whole of it was a dark green-grey.

  “And now it's that ball hovering outside my window keeping me up half the night?”

  “Your windows tint, you know,” Lin murmured.

  Nel glared. “Well, clearly I didn’t know, did I now?”

  Dr. Alvarez interjected, “Yes, now it looks like this.” The image changed, this time to something that resembled Hebert's Arakis. The surface swirled with white and yellow, a jaundiced marble hanging in the black of space.

  “You said currently—I’m not familiar with NASA-level space travel, let alone yours. You can move the space station?”

  “Not easily, but yes. It has travel capabilities. Odyssey was built in this space, however.”

  “And you have no idea what could have happened? You’re floating in their sky and what, you blinked and they were gone? They snuck out in the night?”

  Kapten Greta Wagner, the communications officer, pursed her lips. “It’s not so simple as glancing out the window to see who’s car is parked in the drive, Dr. Bently.”

  She flushed and looked down, forcing an apology past her bruised pride. “Right, of course, apologies.”

  “We were in contact, then just after 0300 an EM pulse wiped our systems.” Dr. Alvarez’s face flickered with something close to apprehension. “When we got back online, the planet was dark. No coms, no IR readings, no EM readings. Nothing. The people—human and Teacher alike—down there were simply gone. No traces that we found upon scans and initial pedestrian survey.”

  Nel stared at the image before her, eyes picking out the patterns that echoed former cities or roads—whatever those structures had been. Years passed. This isn’t a rescue mission so much as a forensic study. “When did you conduct the ped survey?”

  “The scans were completed a few months after the event, and our survey just a year ago. Most of our teams here are system managers, biologists, and so forth, all dedicated to keeping Odyssey in working order, and communicating with the ships abroad. And they had their work cut out for them getting everything functioning. The Iman was only the third docking since the event. Gathering specialists—all of you here—takes time.”

  Most of the people around the table bore looks of fear or surprise. The nasty part of Nel was happy to see she wasn’t the only one on the shit end of “need to know basis.”

  She tapped the picture before her. To her relief, her movement did not interrupt the projection. “I assume all these images and the information we are privy to is already uploaded to our personal computers?”

  “It is. We’re here to discuss where you would like to begin investigations. The ped survey data is up now—” he tapped his own computer and lines, numbers, and symbols flashed over the blue map in bright white. A second later spikes appeared with timestamps, showing the EM and IR scans just before the event. The brightest points seemed focused around the semi-circle Nel noted before.

  The planet might be unfamiliar, the culture might be alien, but maps and data sets were something she knew. “I assume this is the capital or center of commerce and communications?” When the Survey officer nodded, she continued, “Then I want to start there, explore what I can of the titration of their culture. We’ll determine what was happening right before the event. Like Pompeii. I’d like information on the weather down there for the past few years.”

  “We’ll be gathering atmospheric, geological, and chemical data simultaneously with your excavation, to corroborate what our system scans analyzed.”

  “Perfect.” It wasn’t—ideally Nel would already have that information to compare their findings against, but she wasn’t about to pass judgement. Bringing an entire space station online after a blackout probably took more time than you think, Bently. “We can move farther out from that point once I get an idea of baseline. And I'll need several techs to dig, and the information on the lab I'll be working with. When is…” she fumbled with the new terms, “touchdown?”

  “At 0900 tomorrow.”

  Developing a scope of work took a week when she had conducted the previous phases herself. She swallowed hard. “With your permission, I’d like to look over this data more thoroughly and devise a more detailed plan. I can have the scope ready by tomorrow morning. And what about the excavation team? I’d like to know who I’m working with.” She usually didn’t give a damn about who her diggers were—just whether they could move dirt and knew what a flake looked like. Now, more than likely, she was the least equipped of all of them.

  “Certainly. We’ll meet again for touchdown, but our next formal meeting will be for your progress report in three month’s time.”

  Nel heaved a silent sigh, forcing her focus to the tasks ahead, rather than the tangled mess of everything she didn’t know. The meeting went on, each officer detailing their plans for the mission. She tuned in for a moment here and there, but otherwise her eyes fixed on the map flickering before her. Already her mind whirled with transects, test pits, and units. She looked down at her tablet, fingers plugging in her proposed grid, making notes of where she wanted sterile soil samples taken. “If anyone has any questions, direct them to myself or Dr. Servais.”

  Out here, even Mikey was silent. She wondered if the two years in cryo froze her ability to hear him. Maybe even ghosts couldn’t cross the stars.

  “I’d like to be prepared for whatever Dr. Bently digs up, tech wise,” The communication officer argued, tucking a pale lock of hair away from her eyes.

  Nel tuned in at the mention of her name.

  “I assure you, we’ve done enough research to know what’s down there—your own team did the scans, Kapten Wagner.”

  She frowned, tapping at her tablet furiously. “Yes, which is why I know where the gaps in
our data are. We know there were energy spikes, we know where, and we know there’s nothing producing any readings now. We don’t know what did it in the first place, or if it’s still down there, and if it is, whether it’s dead or just dormant—”

  “I see your point. I’ll put in an order to transfer a small military group to accompany the medical team.”

  Nel frowned at the apparent need for military personnel. My sites were always too old to have to worry about whatever events killed the people I studied. Thinking back to Chile and Mikey she realized perhaps Greta had a point.

  The kapten’s concerns were seemingly barely assuaged. “You said there were no transmissions before the pulse—are you sure, or did the subsequent blackout wipe your files as well? I’d like to talk to Ada to see how her binary and memory looks. Even if she was affected, all senti-comps have a residual swan song and the information should be recorded there.”

  “I’m afraid that’s classified, and access to Odyssey’s senti-comp is restricted. Instead, your focus will be communications from the planet only.”

  “Sir, with respect, that’s asking me to work with only half the necessary data—”

  “We’re all working with very little to make a clear picture, Kapten. Your continuing understanding is appreciated.”

  “Excuse me, what happens in case of an emergency?” Nel interjected. “We’re stuck down there and there is no way to plan for every possible contigency.”

  “It would depend upon the emergency, but each of you—each field officer, that is—is given a unique code. You will find it in your docket. Using it will override all command structure in the event of mission failure, infection, or natural disaster. Please be advised it should only be used under extreme circumstances.”

  Nel looked down at her tablet. Sure enough, beside her name was a string of letters and numbers: MAJORTOM79. Chills erupted on her arms.

  She didn’t understand the tech, or why everyone was so secretive about Odyssey’s computer, but she swore the expression shadowing Greta’s features was fear.