Chapter Nineteen–HARD LANDINGS

 

 

Ari bolted suddenly upright, then reclined even faster. His hands shot to his head. He moaned and tasted blood. Gingerly he ran his tongue over his sore lip, realizing he had bitten it. As he rolled to his side, trying to sit up, he discovered Yu on her back beside him. "Yu? Yu? Are you all right?"

She was out cold.

Ari pushed himself up from the hard floor and painfully leaned against a wall. At first he thought they were still outdoors. Looking up tentatively, Ari discovered they were in a massive semiopaque metal building. It was so large that the shiny metal and crystal walls were hard to see at first. They were in a pumping station.

Built into a small mountain, the station accumulated energy from the sun and storms. It stored and amplified it, continually producing more energy than was used. It was immaculately clean, sterile. The only sound was the soft hum of a Gravitational Amplifier, made louder by the vast hard empty space.

Ari whispered "What day is this? Where am I?"

Ari turned in an effort to clear his head. He saw Face standing there, translucent blue energy flowing around his plastic body.

Face did not greet him with one of his characteristic jokes. A grim Face was cause for worry. “We have four days left to complete our mission. We’re in the solar regulation station on the edge of Yutanius."

"Is Yu all right?" Ari worried. "She isn't coming around."

Face seemed as self-assured as always. "No fear. Solace sent for medical help."

Ari noticed another Crystal Intelligence nearby.

Face doled out the social graces. "Meet my friend, Solace. You two are lucky he decided to stay in the Atlantian workforce. He works here with the local Yutans. He's a bit of a loner. His only interest is his Quark Nugget and Iridium crystal experiments. Yu knows about them."

"I don't remember us getting here."

"After the fall you took, I'm surprised you can remember anything. We're about half a kilometer from Yutanius. I went for help. Solace and three trusted Yutan friends responded and bubbled us here."

"Maybe they'll know how to help Yu."

"We’re lucky they came. The other Yutans immediately went back to their experiments."

Ari tried futilely to revive Yu. He desperately raced through alternatives. He still hadn't found a good one when two Yutan medics arrived. They didn’t spare time to greet the stranger, although they knew on first sight that Ari was of the Leader class. They immediately examined Yu.

Yu bore the calm mask of all unwilling dreamers. It was an odd mirror of the composure Ari often tried to pull over his own face.

The larger medic spoke while they carried Yu out. "We've got to get her to the medical facility now . . ."

As he heard these final words, Ari's mask slipped. He was naked before the SICS. The face of fear appeared. "she's in a Metabolic Coma."

 

 

Chapter Twenty—THE PRICE OF NOTORIETY

 

 

Clenched with fear, Yanna stood alone on her balcony. Despite the remarkable edifice cosseting her, she had never been more vulnerable. The home she had long shared with Celarius was palatial beyond all others. She never lost her respect for its glorious artistry. Yet at this moment, its splendor was an empty shell. A sepulcher holding time hostage, it perched on a crest, just below the peak of the tallest hill in Yutanius. Like a wary winged creature ready to take flight, her lofty eyrie hung near the edge of the city.

Artists have always lived on the edge. As the wife of Celarius, the boldest artist in Atlantius, Yanna was accustomed to the isolation of residing on the fringe. As a Yutan married to an Atlantian, she had effectively taken a vow of solitude along with her wedding pledge. Those in mixed marriages were marked by radical Yutans for death. Yanna had received their threats and knew the malignant face of evil too well.

As the Yutan female bore these threats over the years, she had become the tall epitome of elegance and grace. Life had sculpted her into a being as worthy of remark as any of her husband’s acclaimed monumental art works.

She tuned the Vid-com, signaling Celarius again. She knew the odds of reaching him were slight. Celarius was on his spaceship, bound for The Red Planet. Celarius’s ship has traveled the seventy-nine million kilometers to and from The Red Planet many times. The Vid-com could connect them instantly across that once vast distance. The wonders of technology, however, could not make the husband choose to open himself to her contact. The Vid-com summons was not answered.

So deep was she in thought that the swish of the doors behind her went unnoticed. In an effort not to startle her, a young woman approached the balcony quietly. Yanna’s unwilling solitude was gladly broken by a soft footfall on the hard, polished marble. Even before she turned to look, she knew it was her daughter, Shaika.

The only daughter, Shaika’s voice was gentle. “He still isn’t answering?”

Yanna’s resignation was unmarred by impatience. “He never answers when he is intent upon a project. This reception is a work of art in its own way. As the most prominent and controversial artist in Atlantis, Celarius has obligations that go beyond his family.”

Shaika was somewhat less generous. “Yoris is still missing. How could Celarius leave when his only son has vanished?”

“Perhaps he has faith that Yoris will return.”

“Celarius only has faith in his aesthetic capabilities. He sets aside Yoris’ disappearance as if it were nothing, while he flies off to attend an art show to glorify himself.”

“This ceremony and reception mark the conclusion of galactic efforts. He’s exhausted after three years working on the Atlantian Head. The most important leaders in the accessible universe will be there. Most of the High Council will attend along with many interested Atlantians. Even a battery of SIC’s wish to serve at this event because they value creative happenings like this. Every Atlantian who can’t go to The Red Planet plans to participate within our Spatial Emerson systems.”

“I know, I know.” Shaika counted off a rote litany that she had heard too often. “One, the grand-opening will include a remote Solar-casting from Spatial Emersion Systems here on Atlantis. Two, many Atlantians will visit his grand opening in person using the Pulsar spaceships. Three, anti-gravity bubbles will be welcome to travel inside and outside of the massive Atlantian Head and its imposing facial structure. Four, a stellar reception will commemorate the occasion.”

Her bitterness toward her father’s absence was understandable. At times she felt like less than one of his artistic experiments.

Yanna tried to gently tease her out of her resentment. “So, you were listening to his plans.”

“How could I have escaped them? He’s gone on and on about them for over a year.”

“There are many he cannot disappoint.”

“He prefers them to us.”

“Nonsense. His art has always taken him away. It’s part of whom he is. It does not mean he loves us less. Celarius comes home at least once a week. I mark my days by the shine of his mirrored metallic ship arriving on our horizon. It greets me with the energetic smell of breakers on the reef.”

The two women hugged the balcony ledge.

“Yoris does lose track of time when he is with her,” Shaika offered.

Yanna knew she was referring to Yoris’ girlfriend. She knew too that the gazebo on the edge of Artan Park was their favorite rendezvous. A search of the area had turned up nothing. Marana was missing too. She did not wish to confirm Shaika’s fears.

In silence, they gazed at the ocean view the balcony provided, feeling an urge to turn their eyes skyward. The balcony was an excellent observatory of the heavens. The sky was so clear, they might imagine they could see Celarius’s ship soaring beyond the moon toward the red planet.

Yanna tuned the Vid-com again. The inevitable lack of response to her call left a palpable void in its wake.

Sinking in that silence, Yanna’s ears reached out for the comforting rush of water speeding through causeways. “Celarius always surrounds us. Look around. Waterfalls he designed run inside the house and through the gardens. Their surging pulses, sing like the pumping arteries and veins in our bodies. They give us esthetic pleasure as well as practically providing climate control. Celarius left nothing to accident. The speed and volume of their shimmering flow are tuned to play a sibilant symphony to accompany each moment of our life. It touches and sustains us. When it does, it is not only a river of creativity that nourishes us, but Celarius’s artistry. Listen carefully and let it wake the artist in your heart anew.”

“My heart will wake to nothing, until my eyes wake to the sight of Yoris’ smile. His honest, real, in-the-flesh smile, not a facsimile. You may settle for Celarius’s symbolic arms around you in the form of this house, but I want my brother to hold me again.”

“You think a mother’s arms ache less than a sister’s?”

Shaika was abashed. She had not meant to add to Yanna’s strife. “I am sorry. It is just that I’m so afraid for Yoris. Who knows what Yutan radicals ...?”

She broke off abruptly. Although they had raised her with self-respect, Celarius and Yanna had been unable to insulate Shaika from her fate as a Yutan hybrid. She could not escape the hatred of the Yutan radicals.

Not wanting her mind to touch the horror of her brother’s possible fate, Shaika fled to comfort her mother. “You’re right. Even in the midst of my deepest terror, I find my heart filled as I inhale bountiful bouquets of blue magnolias.”

“Celarius placed them around the water and in every room, inside and out. He wanted them to garland my heart in an eternal wedding bouquet of creamy-scented petals.”

“Yanna, you are so pure and modest. I will never manage your grace in the face of fear.”

“All I do is hold in my heart what I want most — a strong family.”

Shaika tried to bury her fears the last four days’ produced. The closeness to her lost brother overwhelmed her aching anxiety within her heart. She could not live without her brother’s strength. Absent a father, cared for by a mother who loved her father excessively, Shaika was held captive by terrifying emptiness. Without Yoris she fell into an abyss.

 

--

 

Yanna had not seen Celarius enter his ship that morning. Although she could not withstand the pain of witnessing his departure, she well knew what she would have seen. Celarius, boarding it proudly, taking command efficiently.

Whatever feelings Celarius had about his son’s disappearance were quickly quashed by the shipboard routine. As surely as Yanna had snuggled into the scent of magnolias and streaming waters, Celarius settled into the background noise of his warbling craft. The palpitating vibrations and slightly metallic fragrance of molecular conversions soothed him.

Celarius thought of sitting and a chair that fit him perfectly formed from his thought. The molecules that formed it flowed up from the flat mirror-blue Atlantian metal floors and shaped themselves into the perfect perch for him. No sooner was he seated in the newly created chair, than a special multicolored force field was generated to act as a safety restraint. The protective fields appeared automatically for takeoff, landing, and unusual circumstances.

Celarius had acute tactile feelings as suited a sculptor. He took pleasure in the gentle tug of the vigilant force fields. As he ran his eyes over the polished mirror-like walls, he delighted in sensing the smoothness of their sheen.

Settling in, Celarius found a kind of comradeship with the SIC who lived onboard as a vital part of the spaceship. He played out his captaincy by briefing the SIC on many things he already could have been presumed to know. “Our trip is sufficiently short that we may assume that The Red Planet' position does not change noticeably during our journey. All we need is the current position of Earth and The Red Planet.”

This triggered the SIC to rattle off his massive archival knowledge of their positions. “The two extremes in variable distance occur when Atlantis and The Red Planet are aligned on the same side or on opposite sides of the Sun. In the former case, the separation between the two planets is approximately fifty-six million kilometers. In the latter, it's approximately five times that. Divide these two distances by two hundred and fifty four thousand kilometers per second and you get four minutes twenty-two seconds for the shortest possible trip and twenty-one minutes three seconds for the longest.”

Celarius nodded. On days when he was impatient and anxious to start work, he might have irritably remarked that the journey could prove shorter than the SIC’s explanation. But a SIC was a SIC — factual details made up a significant part of their worlds. Besides, at a time when so much of importance was uncertain in his life, Celarius felt reassured by the SIC’s factual certainty.

Celarius breathed deeper, enjoying the tangy soothing smell of the synthetic oxygen, as the SIC continued. “The planets’ solar orbits are nearly circular. Atlantis is about one astronomical unit from the Sun. Of course, you know the average distance between Atlantis and the Sun is one hundred fifty million kilometers. The Red Planet is about 1.52 astronomical units from the Sun. The difference is 0.52 astronomical units.”

Taking in the concession from the SIC that he might actually know some of these basics, Celarius turned on the Spatial Emersion System (SES). Once the SES was engaged, any room could be changed to another any time by the electricity of thought. All Celarius had to do was think with intention of a command center, bedroom, or playroom, and the space around him was instantly transformed.

Celarius loved the split-second feeling of weightlessness just before the dampening field kicked in. Today, something was lacking. "SIC, check out the dampening field. It’s engaging slowly."

Celarius issued some final commands, noting the coordinates to the city of Yutanius on Atlantis and the Head on The Red Planet. He specified the speed and course, and then left everything to the SIC and the ship.

Despite the company of the SIC, he missed Yanna. She had been patient with his decision to leave, which made him regard her fondly. Celarius focused and summoned up a control station. It instantly formed perfectly all around him. He projected a working command control interface of Yanna. He could easily have contacted her by Vid-com, if he so chose. He did not. Although he wanted her company, he wanted it on his own terms. If he engaged in a real time conversation with her, he would have to think of his missing son, he must keep busy. Instead, he commanded the interface to make a chair next to him with a facsimile of Yanna seated in it. He would make a recording with the simulation and simulate a conversation to send to his wife before he arrived on the Red Planet. “Time is short, Yanna. I will soon be on the Red Planet, surrounded by adulation. I wanted you with me. Since you chose to remain in Yutanius, I’ve called up your likeness for company.”

“I’m always as near as your thought of me,” an obedient Yanna facsimile replied.

As their pseudo conversation continued, the SIC pilot went through his paces. As soon as Celarius started his simulation, the SIC had thought himself into a private control deck. Now he was surrounded by a 4-D interface that let him pilot the craft with his well-trained thought processes. For the sake of variety, he occasionally issued commands using the colorful interface with the merest arch of an eyebrow, the flicker of a hand, or by voice. The routine way of piloting the ship, however, was by frequency-based thought.

A sonorous voice interposed itself. “Will neither of you raise your eyes to the heavens?”

Celarius immediately recognized Nor’s imperial tone. He immediately switched off the simulation of Yanna, even though a readout replying to his thought told him that the Administrator had not visually engaged the interior of the ship.

Nor knew he had been scanned and answered accordingly. “I have better things to look at than your flight deck.”

The SIC assented before Celarius could. “Yes, the synthesized two meter high by one meter thick crystal band that surrounds the ship provides excellent visibility.”

Nor chided Celarius lightly. “No doubt you’re jaded. An artist of your caliber should never let himself be distracted for a vision of such pure beauty. Since the attention you were paying to it was nil, your view screen was opaque. Now that I have directed your attention to our full view of the Red Planet, no doubt your thought frequencies have made the view screen as crystal clear as mine.”

Although only Yanna could have distracted him from the breathtaking view, Celarius diplomatically accepted being chastened. “No one should ever take beauty for granted, especially an artist.”

At the sight of the Red Planet, the SIC thought a command to deactivate the dark matter drive, but Celarius was to quick.

“DARK MATTER off,” Celarius barked. The command was redundant and superfluous. Celarius spoke it aloud for Nor’s entertainment.

The DARK MATTER drive’s soft hum stopped before the last syllable was out of Celarius’ mouth.

Celarius was not good at small talk so his words were lean. “The miracle of engineering!”

Fortunately for Celarius, Nor’s bodyguard, Zolar interrupted his meager statement. “Do you have a chair for me too?”

Celarius laughed politely, acknowledging the joke. Anyone even slightly familiar with protocol for the Atlantian Leaders knew it was Zolar’s duty to be by Nor's side whenever he traveled.

“I couldn’t think of not having one!” Celarius quipped, alluding to the fact that a mere thought would instantly become reality.

Nor dropped his unusual informality, following the rules of courtesy. “Permission to come aboard, Captain.”

“Permission gladly granted, Mr. Magistrate.” Celarius knew that Nor’s request was a nod to the customs of interstellar travel. As Supreme Magistrate, Nor could board any ship he pleased.

Similarly, although he was in command, Celarius asked his pilot permission to join him on the control deck.

“Permission granted,” said the SIC.

Instantly Celarius’ chair was next to his pilot. “Have you programmed The Administrator’s compatibility brain frequency into the Spatial Emersion System?”

“Naturally, Captain. That’s standard for any spacecraft he boards. Zolar’s frequency is there too.”

Nor appeared on the control deck. As soon as the pilot granted him permission to sit, Nor thought of a chair next to them. The chair formed around him, complete with the restraint for his protection, ergonomically tailored force field of blue light.

Knowing that he would soon have to be on his toes, Zolar decided to grab a few minutes of rest. He dreamed up a reclining chair as plush as any palatial lounge on Atlantis. The silken overstuffed velvet whispered its softness to him. His comfort was personified. The manifested idea he had externalized supported every inch of his burly body. He no sooner rested his head down on the plush chair and comfort surrounded him. Ensconced in contentment and accustomed to interplanetary flight, Zolar yawned cozily.

“Begin the approach to the Cydonia region,” ordered Celarius.

“The Cydonia region is a belt of land formations that circles The Red Planet at about 30-40 degrees north latitude.” Having oriented Nor to the geology, the pilot called up a navigator to assist with the approach and issued him instructions. “Navigator, what is the temporal report?”

The navigator’s response was crisply efficient. ”Gravitational force and magnetic permeability, zero.”

“Reversing electrical permeability,” acknowledged the pilot. “Entering planet’s atmosphere, reducing to 6,346 kilometers per hour, 322 kilometers and holding.”

These maneuvers created the feeling of accelerating and decelerating at remarkably fast speeds. Even to those with years of experience, it was a disagreeable and pleasurable thrill.

Nor commended them. “Immensely impressive, gentlemen.”

Whether he was remarking on the approach or the view it afforded was unclear. The Red Planet appeared before them, a stunning display of scarlet sands.

The navigator announced their location. “Cydonia region, 30-40 degrees north latitude.”

Nor was inclined to indulge the SIC’s factual nature. “By all means continue.”

“As we come in for a landing, you will see three prominent structures in the Cydonia region of the Red Planet. First, the massive 3.4 kilometer long, 2.4 kilometer wide, 1.6 kilometer high Atlantian Head. The second structure is 12.7 kilometers to the southwest of the Atlantian Head and is called Reception City. There, six, five-sided pyramids have been constructed. They are 13.2 kilometers wide by 5.1 kilometers deep and 1,012 meters high. The third and final structure is 12.7 kilometers southeast of Reception City is also a five-sided pyramid. However, this structure will only be used as the landing site for all guests. The landing pyramid is 1.2 kilometers high and nearly 4 kilometers wide.”

Nor focused on the stream of statistics as a distraction. It was a momentary respite from thoughts about the approaching asteroid. If he allowed it to, the Dark Heart of Creation would rip through his mind like a preternatural claw. The asteroid and its many patches of cataclysmic comets had been the subject of debate within the High Council.

In his mind, Nor recalled the meeting only a few hours, of how he voiced the consensus. “The art show must go on as planned to give the appearance that all is well.”

Zelus confirmed that decision. Besides being a trusted Yutan protector and Yu’s father, he was the Administrator’s lead scientist. His recap of their thought process helped solidify it. “We voted to give citizens only one day notice. That’s all they need to prepare. Even an advanced culture can quickly degenerate into anarchy when massively attacked. The less time they have to panic the better. Keeping them pleasantly engaged in the meantime is critical. The main event, the Solstice Tour, should go on as scheduled. Our citizens depend on clarity, yet government’s wisdom and inner essence must beacon authority with depth of insight.”

Nor continued the review of their top secret plans to ensure there were no misunderstandings. “Even though they’re dismantled, it will take considerably more than a day to lift our heavy power stations and similar equipment aboard larger ships. We must ensure Atlantian households still have adequate power. We must plan strategically not to put a heavy burden on other power stations.”

Zelus refined the idea. “We plan to divert power demands until a single modified amplified power station handles the load during the last day. All this must take place before the populous is notified. If word leaks out, we may destroy ourselves before the evacuation. The Dark Heart will wipe out everything. Not a single artifact will remain. Only what we carry into space will survive.”

Nor scanned the eyes of the High Council. “Are we all clear? This is at the highest level of top secrets. Once you leave the room there can be no further questions nor discussion.”

The distinguished heads of the dignitaries bobbled in unison. It was a secret they were only to glad to keep, even from themselves.

 

--

 

The continuing briefing by the SIC, returned Nor’s attention to the present. “After they land at the pyramid, the dignitaries will travel 12.7 kilometers northwest to Reception City. Anti-gravity bubbles, housing two or three Atlantians will be used for the this trip to the Atlantian Head.”

Celarius gave Nor the only part of the briefing he really needed to know. “You and Zelus will take the lead to make the 6:10 a.m. arrival deadline. The solstice begins at 6:18 a.m. sharp. Celestial events wait on no being.”

The Administrator was so accustomed to hiding his inner thoughts and feelings that Celarius did not notice the shadow that fell over Nor. As important as the arrival deadline was to Celarius and the throng of celebrants, it was nothing compared to the deadline that held Nor’s consciousness captive. Only four days remained.