On fiction: Rendezvous with NECA pt.2

Author note: the text, as it appears on the WaD site (but without notes). Part 1 is here.

Sunlight reflects off her gold coated visor. A tether links her to the ship, balanced in pseudo-stationary orbit between the hub and torus. Seventy kilometers below, on NECA’s surface, noon gives way to dusk. It will be thirteen minutes till next midday.

Away from the Sun, frozen specks of light break the monotony of vacuum, luminous dots so distant they might as well be within reach. Beyond certain scales, the mind ceases comprehension. More real to her is NECA, its net of tubing wrapped around the gently spinning torus, its swirl of pipes that revealed an entrance. Her target two kilometers above, the hub seventy below, she floats alone, in emptiness, with no support. There is no fear, only inertia and gravity, and she is their plaything. She fires the thrusters on her suit, to remind physical law she has some say in the proceedings.

–”How are we doing doctor Evans?”– captain Chahal asks through the commdev.

“Routine course corrections, sir. We’ll have the elevator running in no time.”

Two kilometers. And yet, as the tether slowly stretches, it’s not too difficult to pretend that she is in a cave instead. How deep was Krubera in Georgia? Two and a half kilometers. More twisty, yes, and walls to bump into, yes, but ultimately the same stretch of darkness leading to places unknown. Behind her the surface, or the ship, in front the bowels of Earth, or NECA. And just as in Krubera, a wide variety of carbiners and cord loops hangs from her belt. The torus’ gravity itself is too weak, it is her orbital velocity that pushes her away from the hub. The slowest fall she can imagine, she helps it along with one more thruster fire to adjust her path.

–”We should be studying that hub,”– Gubarev’s voice sounds. –”That’s where most of the mass is.”–

–”It’s so dense, it’s probably solid.”– Ballard. –”At least the torus must have some cavities inside.”–

–”The little green men are all dead anyway.”– Hendrix. –”Or else they’d react to the lovely bait we’re sending them now.”–

She frowns. “Hey!”

He laughs. –”It does look like we’re fishing for aliens. Aren’t you afraid we’ll cut you off and leave you to them?”–

“No. I have full confidence in the team,” she says, “whatever the faults of some of its members.”

The Captain’s voice. –”Major Hendrix has a peculiar way to lighten the mood. I can assure you, doctor, we will retrieve you at the smallest sign of trouble.”–

–”Scores of bad fifties films to the side, what if Mars needs -men-?”– Ballard asks.

Hendrix, annoyed. –”Are you … weird or something?”–

She chuckles. Truth is, her heart is racing, and heights are not what scare her. She’d slap him if he were near, but she can understand Hendrix’ impulse to make fun of the situation. Between waiting to see that the dead giant in front of her is really dead, and rolling her eyes at a bad joke, she knows which she’d prefer.

Night becomes day as she touches down among a nest of tubes, some thin as an arm, a few as thick as traffic tunnels, all smooth and featureless. No visible branches; parallel or cross-wise to each other they run in several tangled layers, their slithering shadows almost obscuring the surface underneath. And though the tubes look as solid as hard metal, she has a feeling they could start to move at any moment should they so desire. She grabs one of them; it feels cold, which must of course be mere illusion. There is no way she could feel any heat exchange through the suit’s insulation. She tries to bend the tube, but her efforts have no effect. It might do. She passes a loop of cord around it, which she clips to an eight knot on the tether, then reattaches herself through an ascender.

“Attempted to secure elevator end, waiting for test,” she says.

The ship begins to reel in the slack, and she ascends towards it, stopping a couple hundred meters above the torus surface. On her signal, the ship starts to pull harder. Tether and tube strain against each other- twenty kilonewtons, a voice tells her- but neither gives way. The end seems secure. The ship eases its pull, and she descends again, to put two more loops of cord around different pipes and clip them to the tether, for extra security.

“Elevator end secured,” she says, and removes herself from the tether, “path is free.”

It will be a few minutes until the others arrive, on rope climbing gear powered through the tether, so she has some time to look around, all by herself. The rotation of the torus creates a semblance of gravity, but it is much feebler than that of Earth. Walking is awkward if each step is a featherfall, so she pulls herself along the pipes. Strange world, where crawling is faster than running. Shouldn’t there be marks, tiny scratches, craters, proof of NECA’s long voyage? The surface looks as if it had just begun to exist, flawless and defiant, with only a few shallow pools of dust hiding below tube crossings. She takes some of the dust into a sample jar for later study.

The pipes guide her closer to the airlock. And why not, it’s the day’s destination anyway. She crawls around it through the metal gauze, searching for more pockets of dust to gather. Is that-

“Captain, can you see this?” She points the spot of her flashlight on the object. A box, about the size of a human torso, with things that look like suction cups. Which, of course, they are not, since those don’t work in vacuum. And yet, hidden beneath a knot of tubing, the box has somehow managed to stay glued to NECA’s surface. Jet black, chipped and pocked, it seems as foreign to this world as she herself is.

–”I see it, doctor.”–

She draws near. A triplet of rugged sliders adorns the top, the not-quite suction cups the bottom, and though some damage is evident, it appears mostly cosmetic.

–”I would advise you not to touch that,”– the captain says, –”wait till the rest of us get there.”–.

–”Looks like it’s your lucky day, eh, Ballard.”– Hendrix says.

-:-:-

It is night again on NECA, and only the cold white spots of their torches provide illumination. She stands a couple paces away, Chahal and Hendrix by her side, while Ballard kneels before the box.

“Radioactive, but only slightly,” he says. “Looks … most likely its power source expired. Still, could you take a few steps back?”

“I will not all-”

“It’s all right captain, I believe this thing is too depleted to be dangerous. But just in case.”

He turns to look back at them. Apparently satisfied with the distance, he slides one of the controls on the box.

Their torchlights flicker then fail as a loud pop sounds through the commdev. The darkness lasts less than a second but even so when light returns she scans franticly for bearings. A crack has appeared in the airlock cover, or rather an iris-like opening. Too narrow to fit a person. In front, still near the box, is Ballard. His torch doesn’t shine.

A crackle in her commdev.

–”What the hell are you doing down there?”– Gubarev, alarmed. –”Are you all trying the elevator at once?”–

“Doctor?” Chahal asks. “Ballard!”

The physicist turns to face them. It’s difficult to tell through his visor, but he appears to say something. He frowns for a moment, then makes a thumbs up.

“Ss-, Evans, Hendrix, take this man back to the ship now!”

She jumps- or crawls- into action, Hendrix just one step behind her, to tackle the gesturing Ballard. He keeps pointing to the box and the airlock, but that will have to wait. Comms gone, lights gone, who knows what other damage his suit has. They drag him back to the tether, where she attaches her ascenders. Ballard still in her grasp, she rushes upward.

-:-:-

“Damn, you should have taken the box too.”

“You’re welcome,” she says.

“I was fine, it was just a little E.M.P. And did you see, it opened the airlock.”

“I would rather not lose a man on the first day. Nor any other, for that matter,” Chahal says.

The med/bio lab seems even more crowded as almost all the crew has gathered around the physicist. He beams as if he has just achieved a dangerous acrobatics trick, while behind him, arms crossed, head slowly shaking, captain Chahal resembles a disappointed father. Her own mouth is still dry from the rush of adrenaline, of fear- she hopes the others won’t read that in her eyes- and she glances around for a glass of water. Gubarev pours her one before resuming a mile-long stare. His fingers rap against a cabinet.

“I feel all right, captain, and I’m sure Dezaki can verify … where is she?”

“I ordered her to rest, she’s been overworking herself lately. And do not make me put sedatives in you too.”

“That would be a pity. We can get in now. Well, I need to see how that thing works, but if its power source is what I think it is, I can do one better- I can tell you how old it is, too.”

She takes a sip from her glass. “One thing we know already. We’re not the first visitors here.”

“Hear that, Gubarev?” Hendrix says. “There were others too, yet here it is floating on its way. Isn’t that good news?”

“They ran and left their keys behind, or didn’t leave at all. No, that doesn’t seem-”

“Man you should lighten up.”

“What’s the status of Earth communication?” Chahal asks. “I’m sure they’d like to hear all this.”

Hendrix coughs. “Link to the relay satellite got a bit sketchy. I’ll need a couple hours to figure out what’s happened there.”

“Do so. Meanwhile, myself and doctor Evans will retrieve the device from NECA. No, you, dr. Ballard, will stay here. Major Yen will see to your physical examination.”