Aurora (16 page)

“Perhaps we could cut the canopy, or break it?” suggested Beaumont.

“Not a chance,” said Aurora dismissively.

“There's nothing for it, then, I'm afraid,” said Beaumont to Orlov. “You'll just have to stay in there until power returns to the Beacon—transmitter, whatever the thing is. It always has before, so there's no reason to suppose it won't do it again. We can keep you supplied with oxygen, food, whatever you need. Don't worry—you'll be fine!”

Vitali grinned weakly. “Yes. Fine. Easy enough for
you
to say. Sure.”

He didn't sound at all sure.

ANOTHER WORLD

Aurora and Lundquist stayed with Orlov. They had with them a trolley containing food and drink packs and spare oxygen. Beaumont drove back to camp to report to Earth and to prepare to bring further supplies, should they be needed. Rover 2 was almost back from Base. Minako and Verdet were close enough to have picked up much of what had happened via the relay station perched on the lip of the canyon.

It was very lonely by yourself in the pressure dome, Beaumont discovered. He found he could not bear to allow his thoughts to dwell on what he was doing on this strange world; on the immensity of space around him; on the vast distance to Earth; on the unimaginably vaster distances between the stars. So he stayed at the comm desk in case he was needed.

He tried talking to the pair on Rover 2, but they seemed singularly uncommunicative.

He prepared a message and video to transmit to Earth.

At 22:07, Mars time, he saw a light appear on the western horizon. It grew brighter and separated into two. Hillocks and dunes became outlined in yellow–white. At last the red glow of the Rover 2 cabin's night-driving lamp became visible, revealing the dark silhouettes of two figures.

Finally, dust swirling in the glow of its headlights, the vehicle came to a halt. There was a delay while the occupants checked their suits, helmets and backpacks, then the hatches swung upward like a gull's wings and the two scientists stepped out.

It was obvious as soon as Minako and Verdet entered the dome that there was something wrong between them.

Beaumont allowed them to de-suit and to relax with some refreshments before he broached the subject. “All right, what's up with you two? You can cut the atmosphere in here with a knife since you came in!”

Minako's eyes blazed, and Beaumont, remembering a remark once made by Aurora about the Japanese woman's strange odor, for a moment wondered if he had accidentally hit the target. She had bags under her eyes, he noticed; they didn't make her any more attractive.

Verdet passed a hand over his short, crinkly black hair and said nothing.

“If you don't tell me I'll start using my notorious imagination!” threatened Beaumont, smiling to try to lighten the mood. “Let's see: two of you, alone at Base Camp. I know, Claude made a pass at you, Minako, and you slapped his face!”

“Oh, shut up and don't be ridiculous,” snapped Minako. “We're not all like you and Dr. Pryor, you know.”

For a moment she looked as though she instantly regretted that remark. She continued rapidly: “If you must know, he accused me of being responsible for the leaks to the media about Dr. Pryor and her amazing powers. I've told him time and again that it wasn't me, but he just keeps repeating that I had more opportunity than anyone else, because I often volunteered to stay at the communications desk.”

Beaumont's face fell. “Oh. Ah. So that's it.” He turned to face Verdet. “She's right, Claude. I can't tell you how I know, but it definitely wasn't Minako. Now, kiss and make up?”

Verdet looked for a moment as though he would refuse. Then he summoned a grin, leaned over and planted a peck on the embarrassed-looking woman's cheek. “Sorry, Minako. But you must admit....”

“That's enough!” said Beaumont. “Let's leave it at that. And I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to turn in. Think of poor Vitali, Bob, and Anne....”

* * * *

Next morning, after a brief report to Mission Control, the three from the dome took both rovers out to the spaceship. Today they brought extra supplies, so that in the event of anyone being trapped inside the craft again they'd be able to survive a day or two in relative comfort until the Beacon recharged itself. Assuming it
did
recharge itself.

Orlov had spent an uncomfortable night, but was pleased to see that Minako and Verdet had returned safely. The shrunken Sun peeped over the rim of the canyon, and soon the alien craft gleamed in its rays. The partly open canopy glittered.

Finally Aurora said, “Well, I guess this is the moment of truth.”

As though they had rehearsed it, Lundquist unclipped her pliss. She climbed the smooth skin of the craft, flattened herself to squeeze under the canopy, and dropped inside. Lundquist passed her backpack through to Orlov, who attached it again. The whole operation took only seconds.

She grasped the fingers of the glove, whipped it off, and placed her hand on the Beacon.

Nothing happened, and despite the gadget's inner warmth she felt her hand growing rapidly cold and numb. She prepared to pull the glove back on.

And then the familiar ruby glow appeared, spreading around the band on the smaller sphere. Aurora breathed a sigh of relief—and she wasn't the only one. She put the glove back on, at the same time “thinking” the canopy fully open.

“Do you think everyone
should
come inside?” she asked Orlov as the others crowded the opening. “And what about you? Are you all right? Do you want to go back to camp?”

“They may as well come in. I think I would have a mutiny on my hands if you found something vital when you tried the controls and they missed it. As for me—I've got only one problem, that I didn't want to take care of in here unless I had to.” He smiled uneasily. “But if I can just go outside for a moment....”

She knew what he meant, because she likewise always tried to arrange matters so that she didn't have to use her suit's toilet facilities unless absolutely necessary. Unlike the arrangement of various tubes and diapers—nappies, she still called them—used in earlier suits, theirs did have a sort of double-airlock system that allowed them to relieve themselves and bury the results, sealed in a non-degradable and detoxifying plastic pack, when out on the surface. There had been a strong faction in favor of bringing home all waste matter, so as not to contaminate the Martian or space environment, but the prospect of saving weight had won the day—every gram of waste material left behind on Mars represented an extra gram of valuable samples to be brought home in its place.

Arrangements could doubtless have been made with those outside to pass out baggies, but she could sympathize with Orlov's sensitivity.
He must be
very
uncomfortable by now,
she thought as he left hastily.

When he returned, the whole team was clustered around the instrument panel, Minako and Verdet having examined one of the ovoids and its tiny contents. She closed the canopy, not without some trepidation.

On the way to join the others she Aurora touched the Beacon. “For luck!” she said.

She sat down at the control panel for a moment, then placed a finger on the largest and lightest-colored of the grey keypads.

Almost at once the blue-grey screen flickered with colored patterns, which dissolved into swirling dots.

Then a face appeared, wavering for a few moments as if in a distorting mirror before reappearing with crystal clarity. It was the face of a man, apparently aged about forty. He was dressed in a close-fitting grey suit not unlike those worn by the babies, though darker in color. A skullcap hid his hair. His eyes were violet.

The screen now seemed like an open window, and the man was so lifelike and three-dimensional that, involuntarily, she put out a hand to touch him. She felt only a cold, curved surface.

Aurora tapped the light grey keypad a couple of times, and a voice became audible, getting louder. “It just seemed logical,” she said, anticipating an unasked question. Like the picture, the voice was so clear and had such presence that they all found it hard to believe the man was not right there in the cabin with them.

“I thought our holos were getting pretty real, but this is something else!” said Beaumont.

“Ssshhh! What is he saying?” asked Orlov.

But the man's speech was unintelligible. Yet it seemed tantalizingly familiar.

“Hey, didn't he just say ‘temperature'?” asked Beaumont.

“I thought I heard some French words—and German,” observed Verdet.

“And Japanese,” added Minako.

In fact, elements of every language they knew seemed to be there. All felt they could almost sense the meaning of what the man was saying. He seemed worried, and there was a sense of urgency, as though he were trying to warn of some peril. But of course they had no way of knowing for whom the message was intended.

The image broke up into shimmering points again, and the sound became a static-like roar. When the picture steadied the man had disappeared, replaced by a view of a city taken either aerially or from a high hill. It was no city on Earth, of that there was no doubt. And, assuming the structures had similar proportions to those in an Earth city, it must be vast; yet the buildings were mixed among large areas of greenery and park-like areas.

“It reminds me of an artist's impression I saw of Atlantis,” chirped Beaumont.

“Oh, per-
lease
!” said Aurora wearily. “UFOs were bad enough....”

“No, I'm
not
supporting that silly theory,” Beaumont countered hastily. “Honest! But those concentric watercourses, and the low white buildings and pyramids—and especially that great volcano in the center. You must admit, they do have that look about them.”

Aurora somewhat grudgingly agreed that she had seen similar reconstructions of the capital of the legendary lost continent. Meanwhile, the view enlarged and began to move along some of the waterways and roads. Vegetation clung to the slopes of the volcano for more than half of its height. So the image
was
from some aerial craft. Behind the volcano, softened by distance, hung the outline of an even bigger conical mountain.

Orlov had set his video camera on a tripod so that it could make a continuous recording of what was on the screen.

There was a lot of plant life, which from this height could have been any kind of trees and shrubs, probably tropical. Some had bright flowers or fruit. There were ships or boats on the water; slim, gondola-like craft, some with masts and strange, square or triangular sails which did not billow or change shape but glittered silver-blue. On the roads were a few bubble-like vehicles, and a disc-shaped craft floated smoothly across the deep blue sky. White-gowned people moved on the footways and in the squares.

Aurora shivered suddenly.

Several times the scene blurred and wavered; once or twice it broke up completely. As long as it was clear, the voice continued, occasionally pausing as the view lingered, apparently to make some point. Aurora began to feel even more strongly that she should be able to understand what was being said, but maddeningly the meaning eluded her.

The viewpoint zoomed in on the peak of the volcano. The circular floor of the main crater was flat. In the middle of it they could see a smaller crater, covered by a transparent bubble; through the bubble they could make out rows of seats grouped around a dais. The focus tarried on a group of twelve people seated round a central circular table which looked to be made of marble. Seated onlookers leaned forward intently.

The narrator's voice stopped, and instead the voices of the twelve, both male and female, could be heard, discussing something in urgent tones. These looked older than the other people seen so far, and their gowns were of pastel colors rather than white; but all had fair hair and pale eyes, in which violet or green seemed to predominate. Their skin, though, was very tanned-looking—almost coffee-colored.

Aurora felt her colleagues' eyes on her, though no one said a word. They were all strongly aware that these people bore a very strong generic resemblance to her, Aurora. It could hardly be a coincidence, surely—there must be some reason for it. But what?

The group of debating people dissolved, and the city reappeared, this time seen from almost directly overhead. The scene slowly rotated and the viewpoint became higher, so that the watchers could see more and more of the landscape. The outermost of the watercourses could now be seen not to close in a complete circle, but to widen again behind the volcano, creating a figure-of-eight, the closer portion being the smaller. Aurora was reminded irresistibly of the shape of the Beacon, although the similarity most probably was just happenstance, she thought. The inner watercourses were on different levels, being terraced on the lower, gentle slopes of the central volcano.

There was a fairly flat plain, much of it cultivated; but its fields were not laid out in neat rows or rectangles, instead being arranged in aesthetically pleasing shapes, with complementary colors meeting at their perimeters, an occasional contrasting hue making a startling counterpoint. The straight lines of the watercourses which radiated from the central, volcanic “islands” became gentle curves that meandered among the pastures. Around the city, the water formed three concentric rings. Other low buildings, perhaps farms, were scattered here and there.

It looked idyllic.

The view continued to rise, and several other, isolated flat-topped mountains came into view over a horizon which was beginning to curve, almost lost in a violet haze. The soft purple shadows were long, suggesting late afternoon. The depiction began to rotate again, until the Sun came into view.

No, not the Sun.

Two suns.

“A binary!” breathed Beaumont.

“That clinches it. This planet we're seeing certainly isn't in our Solar System, and can never have been,” said Orlov.

Both suns looked reddish, but this could have been an atmospheric effect, since it was obviously near sunset. But they must obviously have a similar color to each other. One was far larger in the sky than the other—though smaller than the Sun in the sky of Earth. The minor or more distant component of the binary was very small, but piercingly bright. The two stars appeared to be very close, though this could have been merely an effect of perspective. Several large sunspots pocked the face of the bigger or nearer star.

Beaumont peered closer. “Is it just a trick of my eyes, or do I see a bridge of matter between them?” he said thoughtfully.