Leaving Blue 5.1 (7 page)

“How many shapes can this ship achieve?”

“Initially, ten,” Irea replied, in a somewhat warm tone. “However, after you get more acquainted with it, you can create thousands of hull configurations. This craft will interact with your designs—it wants to help you.”

“What are this ship’s weaknesses?”

“Those can be studied when our separate networks are joined.”

“Has this craft ever flown beyond E Four’s gravitational pull?”

“No.”

On screen, five stacked dashes, a hieroglyphic, morphed. Now they resembled a circle, a shape with five dots in the center. I didn’t understand why this ship’s server or its software was creating this symbol.

Another problem came to mind. The RM robots maintained the engines, computers, networks, cables and the hull itself. Yet, they couldn’t fathom Sila or any foreign language.

“Have you or the other translators ever created vectors for interplanetary travel?

Irea remained silent, staring straight ahead.

In front of her, a keyboard rose out of the countertop. On each key, tiny hieroglyphics changed colors. Suddenly, a beam of light shot out of three keys, one from each key, and hit Irea’s eyes.

“Are you studying galactic maps?”

Irea didn’t say a word because she was concentrating on some unknown topic.

At the bottom of the screen, five floating pyramid-shaped hieroglyphics, all three-D, moved toward Irea. Then they stopped, inches above the keyboard. Within seconds, all five gradually morphed until they resembled spheres.

Irea said, “Greg, the Council has just informed me that meteor showers will hit E Four in the next few days. There is no doubt that they will. We should leave before then.”

Much to my surprise, the keyboard flattened. At the same time, it rose. Then the edge that was closest to Irea jerked up and the keyboard changed into a blue screen. In the middle of the screen, ten cubes, all of them the same size, stopped twirling, inches from Irea’s eyes.

“How often do meteor showers hit your planet?” I blinked, worried that meteorites would hit Exp One and rip the hull apart. “I’m talking about life-threatening ones.”

“At this point, I don’t understand enough English to answer.”

“Have the Reen constructed bunkers, or will everyone on your planet die within the next few days?”

Irea replied, “I don’t know what the term
bunker
means.”

I explained the term.

“Yes we have such dwellings. No one will die in the next few days.”

“Tell me more about E Four.”

Irea turned toward me. “Our planet has a long history of heavy meteor showers.”

“Will you, Darwin or the other translators ever go back to E Four?”

On my vtp, UE’s name remained dark, no new messages.

“That is hard to say.” At the bottom of her eye, a tiny-white
0
changed into a triangle. To the right of the triangle, three vertical lines, all parallel, morphed until they resembled three concentric circles.

A recorded male voice, a recent translation that the SAN had just deciphered, came out of my earplugs.
This hieroglyphic refers to a duplicator, a molecule that makes copies of itself. The duplicator, an organism, helps the translator adapt. No more information is available.

“Irea, tell me about the duplicator.”

Darwin stopped next to Irea and they looked at each other.

Irea hesitated. “Greg, Darwin just told me that because his English is so poor, he can’t talk about this vessel’s engine. In a few hours, I will send you a holographic email that will discuss this craft’s engine room.”

I gave her several vtps and told her how to use them.

She studied the features, never making any comments.

I asked that she give the other ones to the rest of the translators and show them how to operate them.

She said she would do that.

I nodded and walked away, headed for my office.

I entered and sat at my desk. Then I spoke into my vtp, wanting to retrieve star maps that would help us reach D36.

Several hours later, while studying network script, a tool that improved star charts, my vtp chimed. Someone was calling me.

Jen’s voice came out of the device. “Greg, I’m reviewing flight-path syntax. Thomas just told me that it needs to be finished as soon as possible or we can’t head for D Thirty-Six.”

“Understood.”

A miniature holographic planet, Losis, appeared above my desk. Beneath Losis, a miniature silver Reen ship, a craft resembling the one I had just entered, veered starboard. I began studying the vessel.

That evening, after the fourteenth holographic Reen ship, one of many that I had been examining, vanished, it occurred to me that it was time to look over Mary’s records, then fill out a report.

In my mind’s eye, just over a year ago, I was walking down the hall. Beneath a light, Alan hugged Mary.

Sometimes, when I saw them holding hands or kissing, I envied them. Alan had someone waiting for him. I did not.

Alan, a pilot who had flown to Doros 5 and Tagas, two space stations orbiting Blue 5.1, joined this mission because exploring deep space interested him. He hadn’t counted on meeting Mary, a woman with a doctorate in Astronomy, someone he had a lot in common with.

I left my office, headed for section 8757.

After reaching it, I lifted my scanner. At the same time, a floating screen appeared, inches above it. On screen, David’s wave functions, information regarding the durability of worn-out conduits, began scrolling. Wave functions, a probability scale, predicted the most likely outcomes. Yet, they allowed for the occurrence of random, unpredictable incidents such as carbon nanotube fatigue, a state that was similar to metal fatigue.

After floating through a low-gravity corridor in 8757 for over several hours, I x-rayed frayed cables. As Bayesian-like statistics showing the probability of equipment failure information enlarged, I compared these x-rays with other simulations. According to the x-rays, the fraying was much worse than I imagined.

Inside housing near the center of a monitor, text brightened.
Database is not available because cables 515 and 516 are broken
.

“Close.” The cover slid over the housing.

“Sam, are you there?”

“No. It’s Lesley. She is busy.”

“I haven’t received any messages from Irea. Does she know how to use all of its features?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“No.”

“I’ll search for her infrared heat signature.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Just a second.” I crawled inside a poorly illuminated shaft. At the same time, my shoulder-mounted light switched to bright mode, illuminating a spatial-light-modulator housing.

“Op.” The housing cover opened. Three spatial-light modulators, also known as laser mirrors, had shattered. “Cl.” The cover hissed shut. Then I floated up the narrow corridor as the beam illuminated more housings.

A voice came out of my vtp, “Greg, it’s UE. The second Reen ship has just landed in shuttle bay three. The pilot’s name is Caldur. Three other translators, Joama, Naartin and Rhea, were aboard. Joama has neck-length blond hair. Rhea has short dark-brown hair. The ship delivered the bombs. I’ll tell you more after you arrive.”

“Thanks.”

Lesley’s voice came out of my vtp. “Greg, I just picked up Irea’s heat signature. She is in shuttle bay three. I’ll go there after I’m finished debugging my script.”

“I’ll be there soon. I want to speak with her.”

I entered shuttle bay three. To my left, on the port side of an egg-shaped spacecraft resembling the other ship, its small wing retracted inside the hull. I didn’t see an entrance.

I looked to the right. In the center of the room, three translators, two women and a man, walked toward UE and stopped, facing him.

UE drew an
A
shape in the air with his hand. It meant nothing to me.

Halfway between UE and the Reen ship, on top of a box-like pedestal, two torpedo-shaped bombs were stacked on top of each other. Unfortunately, there weren’t any hieroglyphics or text on either one.

I walked up to UE. “Are they atomic weapons or are they filled with anthrax?”

“I’m not sure.” He glanced at the translators. “They just told me they don’t know anything about these weapons.”

A male translator, the slender one with auburn hair who somewhat resembled Darwin, came out from behind the Reen ship. Then he stopped next to UE.

UE glanced at him.

The translator didn’t blink, move or speak.

UE turned toward me. “Greg, this is Caldur. He says they’re atomic bombs. Both have Plutonium inside them.”

I flinched, shocked by the news. “Caldur, how will these be launched? Are there engines inside their tails?”

He didn’t answer.

UE announced, no trace of emotion in his voice, “Greg, according to the hieroglyphics in Caldur’s eyes, when we reach prearranged coordinates, these bombs will take off and head for their targets.”

I crossed both arms over my chest. “Caldur, who told you about the coordinates and bombs?”

He didn’t say a word.

UE raised his chin. “Caldur said that the Council decides. He also mentioned Omay and Rema. I’ve never heard of them.”

I paused, thinking. “UE, can’t Naartin, Rhea or Joama tell me more?”

“No. All of them said that they don’t know anything about these weapons.”

I shook my head. “This is annoying.” It was impossible to tell if they were lying or unaware.

UE drew a
S
shape in the air. “Rhea just mentioned Ila. The problem is that I’m unfamiliar with the name. It might be a Council member, an agreement or a location. It’s hard to say.”

I raised my eyebrows. “UE, why did you draw that shape with your hand?”

“I was responding an icon that just appeared in Rhea’s eyes.

I blinked, surprised by his answer. “Do they speak any English?”

UE replied, “No. Irea is guiding them.”

Behind me, the sound of clicking boot heels came closer. I glanced over my shoulder. Irea had just entered the room. She paused on the opposite side of UE, peering at him.

Behind me, close to the shuttle bay entrance, Lesley spoke, “Greg, Irea says she wants us to help her use the vtp.

Irea halted, facing me.

I nodded and flinched, astounded. Irea’s eyes were smaller, the whites of both larger. Her skin was orange-pink. She had evolved at an amazing rate.

The other translators’ eyes were large, mostly black. They hadn’t changed as much as Irea’s.

Irea asked several questions.

I replied, “Project text email above your vtp. The text will enlarge.”

After explaining how the vtp transferred hull maintenance, shuttle, navigation and database files to the SAN, Irea blinked. She didn’t smile, frown or say anything. It was impossible to tell if she understood me.

“UE, does Irea understand what I’m saying?”

“Maybe. However, only time will tell. In the last few hours, I’ve discovered that hundreds of Sila refer to peptides, growing cells, ones which interact with nearby cells.”

“Does your answer mean that she understands me?”

UE paused. “Let me put this way, I’m optimistic.”

I remained silent. Although his comment was vague, it was best to wait.

After UE showed the translators how to use more features, they activated different modes.

Irea glanced at Rhea. Rhea faced Joama.

Despite the silence, I assumed that both understood what Irea was saying.

There was another challenge. How long would it take for the humans to learn how to fly these Reen ships?

Jen and Irea began showing the other translators how to troubleshoot Exp One’s optical interferometric telescopes and spectrometers. And since there were sixteen trillion databases, four hundred forty-one types of software, two hundred thirty computer terminals, and three wireless computer networks, the translators had a lot to learn.

During the next twenty hours, after switching on monitors, I watched Jen, Irea and the other translators as they floated into low-gravity corridors and rooms. Using their vtp’s, Jen and Irea opened software and helped the translators destroy computer viruses and repair cables.

Then I told Jen that the translators had to maintain the SAN’s software and network protocols because David, Thomas, UE and Alan were exhausted. Within minutes, Jen, Irea, Darwin and Mona walked, headed for a SAN monitor while talking about hardware and software.

After Jen leaned against her crutches, she began discussing wireless hubs. Much to my surprise, my respect for her increased.

I didn’t want to testify against her or mention the insubordination charges. Hopefully, EMPE would exonerate her because she was only trying to help a terrified crewmember.

That evening, I entered the engine room. Joel, UE, Caldur, Adam and I walked toward an engine housing. It opened. Joel pointed at a cooling fan and spoke while UE translated.

A five-foot-tall RM robot arrived, gave Joel an engine wall fragment.

Joel turned toward us. “Caldur, Adam, UE, Greg, although the RM can see in infrared, ultraviolet or RGB modes, the android only works in the engine room, because its memory is limited.”

UE began translating, deciphering Joel’s comments.

The RM pivoted.

Joel aimed his finger at its chrome shoulder blade. “Nanoengines inside its back and body receive millions of wireless signals every few seconds. Every RM is well acquainted with seven types of software.”

Several hours later, as I entered my office, Joel’s face appeared on my vtp. He offered a brief smile. “Greg, Caldur is quicker than Adam. Caldur grasps nanotechnology with ease. He’s already helped me repair one RM.

“Anyway, Adam always pays attention to UE. Adam is trying to fix another RM.”

“Progress. Thanks for calling.”

“No problem. I have to go and repair an RM’s foot.”

David’s text email appeared.
Greg, Irea and I are instructing Joama and Mona. We’re showing them how to troubleshoot the satellites dishes, the spectrometers and accompanying software.