Shackleton's Folly (The Lost Wonder Book 1) (3 page)

“We’re getting close!” Alec said excitedly, while staring at his datapad.

Dancer made way for a passing mass of ice and stone in the Oort cloud at the farthest reaches of the upcoming system. “Sorry. We’re almost here.” The star system appeared ahead — a main sequence star and a planetary system with a blue planet third from the star. Their programmed trip descended to a grassy hilltop on the planet. Alec looked at the rolling hills of green grass and then up at the night sky, watching the projection closely. A light breeze rustled the trees in a nearby grove.

“Here.” He pointed out in wonder at the stars. “There’s the Big Dipper and Orion. The night sky of old Earth before the blackness.” He hesitated; a feeling of loss overtook him for a moment. “I never saw it myself, but my dad told me all about it — its smells, its taste, how it felt to lie in a field of grass with a woman to love and look up at the Milky Way.” Alec relaxed as the emotions subsided. He flopped down on the holographic grass, stretching out to look at the stars above. Suddenly, the field fell away from them, and Alec was left lying horizontally in empty space. They left Earth’s proximity and entered hyperspace again.

Dancer took his position near the crystal. Alec sat up and checked his datapad.

“I honor him and will remain until the task given you is complete,” Dancer said reassuringly as he pulled parts of a musical instrument from his back compartment and utility belt. Dancer knew his relationship with Alec was complicated. Alec treated him as if he were a biologic, when many scoffed at such ideas. Alec was much like his father. Dancer felt as if the obligation he owed the father had passed to the son at his death. He started to put the instrument together.

Alec stood and gazed at Dancer. He was uncertain where this was going. “It was survivor’s guilt that started all of this. Thirty-six years, and nothing to show for it. My dad’s deed was a cultural-exchange mission to the Shoans of Pavoneer in the Vulbub system.”

Dancer agreed. “He told me that he felt guilty that he had survived. So he dedicated his life to finding the lost human tribe that he believed to have traveled to the stars.”

Alec was inspired. “We are at the threshold of discovery, Dancer. Think of it: If it is here, we will have the second piece of the inscription my father searched for and the location of the lost tribe.”

“It has been a task worthy of the heroes of your classical period,” replied Dancer eagerly.

“You think of us as heroes?” Alec asked, with unease in his voice.

“I have witnessed honor, courage, hope, and justice since joining this mission.”

“Maybe you have, but that was my father — not me,” he said with certainty.

“You are your father’s son,” replied Dancer, secure in his knowledge.

Alec stepped through the focused sunbeam, over to the still slowly rotating crystal. He tapped a sequence of commands on his datapad and then held its display toward the crystal. A pattern of light flashed from the datapad, pulsed ever faster, and caused a reaction in the facets. The star fields changed into small, visible patterns of glyphs rotating around the room. Alec lowered the pad and walked over to the sculptured doors, running his hands over the perfect seams.

“It’s taken us three standard years to get this far in breaking through the three-lock system,” stated Dancer. “First the clues in the travelogue to use the constellations of the stars above each of the planets visited in a projection for the crystal.” He watched his friend closely. “Then we figured out the starry night-sky patterns and how they changed in the 110,110-year time period.”

Alec nodded in agreement. “It was the amount of time covered in the changing constellations of planets included in the projection.”

“Then we worked it out that it needed to be compressed into a five-second projection you just showed the crystal,” Dancer said with satisfaction.

Alec pointed out, “You were the one who guessed the glyphs were musical notes, and my contribution was how they used the periodic table in the notation for scale and amplitude.”

“Which I must play back exactly, or it’s a total bust. I’m going to warm up here,” Dancer said with some trepidation. He was now holding a wind instrument that he had constructed from the parts. He blew a wail and cry from the brass alto saxophone. Dancer played his version of the soulful jazz classic “Take Five” as a warm-up. “Paul Desmond was a genius.”

*

Dancer did believe that they were on a hero’s journey. The Library of Alexandria Project was left to Alec by his father’s estate. He had conveyed it, with Jack’s belongings, to Alec. Alec was responsible for its administration and protection. A home world — not on the horizon for humanity — was the extremely precious cargo that the
Quest
carried with her. Alec had explored this wonder of his race all his life and took it for an ordinary information source. He researched it; he used it for entertainment; it was his private Earth. He knew he needed to copy it for its protection, but the human community did not have the resources to do so.

*

Alec had thought about leaving it behind with the authorities. When they pressed him for it, he asked what difference it would make whether he had it or they did. They could only say they were better equipped to protect it. Alec had asked, “What does that really mean, anyway?” They were just a bigger target for any human hunt. If that happened, the cultural history of the entire race would be lost. He just reminded them that his family had been the caretakers of this treasure for the last 40 years and had done alright so far.

“If we’re right,” Alec said optimistically, “the periodic table-based glyphs are musical notes. Time to try it out. Anytime you’re ready.”

Dancer’s 24 digits moved, magically producing the chords while he watched the glyphs change faster. The crystal resonated with the sound waves coming from the sax, and the glyphs on the walls responded by becoming more complex. The changing complexity of the music provided real-time feedback for the correct playback of the notes.

“I think we did it this time. It’s evolving!” Alec looked over at the doors with fascination. “Beautiful.”

The music coming from Dancer changed moods — from one of light to one of dark. The glyphs quickly slowed to a stop. Alec’s brow furrowed with irritation as he swung round to Dancer.

“I know what happened. Alec, like I told you before, when I make even the smallest mistake, the sound waves cause changes in the crystals’ responses.” He shrugged both sets of shoulders. “A single error will cause a cascading crash of the musical work. Sorry,” Dancer said apologetically.

The wail of the sax started the glyphs moving again. Rich tones filled the room. The notes rotated around the walls faster and faster, with Dancer’s 24 digits moving ever faster to keep up with the visual feedback.

Alec noticed the appearance of a small crack between the doors. Dancer’s performance became more intense and caused the doors to open wider and wider. The music was almost a living entity in the room. The doors were now completely open, and the glyphs suddenly vanished. Dancer played to a grand finish.

Alec smiled jubilantly at Dancer, “Congratulations — you did it.” He put out his hand, and Dancer grabbed it as they shook hands. Dancer disassembled his sax and put it away as they went to the newly opened doors. They entered the tight, low-ceilinged corridor, the walls and floors emitting the soft, warm glow of a mid-sequence star.

A bipedal creature materialized into existence in front of them. It looked from Dancer to Alec and stated neutrally, “I am the museum’s Curator. How may I assist you?”

Alec smiled and nodded to the walls. “A bio-scanning lie detector with a holo-projection and interface,” he said to Dancer. Alec spoke with confidence: “We only want an inscription piece that is not of your world. We intend to return it to the world where it belongs.” He paused. Then, to reassure the security system, he said “It is said you
may
have it. If you do not, we will leave and lock up as we do so.”

The Curator shifted as the artificial intelligence within the building scanned them. It continued, with a more cheerful disposition than before. “I understand. You are not a thief.”

Alec declared freely, “Actually a researcher and entrepreneur.”

The soft, warm glow of the corridor intensified to an intense shine and then dissipated to return to the soft glow. The Curator said with resolve, “You are not here to plunder the museum. You may pass and enjoy our exhibits. Please follow the indicators.” The projection of the Curator passed into the wall. A brightly lit sphere appeared in the corridor and flew ahead; it slowed, waiting for Alec and Dancer to follow, which they did.

Alec and Dancer entered the exhibition hall, the central vault, which stored the planet’s most precious artifacts of a race now thousands of years gone. “Dancer, document everything — it’s this world’s treasure trove of the best of the best in culture,” said Alec with awe.

Dancer pulled what looked to be five-dozen ornamental disks from his abdomen and tossed them into the air. The sensory disks came to life and darted away in all directions, scanning artifacts and their descriptions, recording everything possible for posterity and reproduction. They flew over row upon row of glass and metal display cases. Alec looked at a fantastic aboriginal mask in one case. The oversized face and spiked rows of teeth, in the right lighting, would invoke nightmares in even the boldest of creatures.

Dancer said impudently, “I knew a guy who looked like that on a good day.”

Alec rolled his eyes and directed Dancer intently: “Dancer, bring it out. Let’s see if our luck holds.”

A compartment popped open in Dancer’s lower back. He reached in and gently removed a triangular-shaped object wrapped in a rich, royal-blue velvet. Dancer opened the cloth to reveal a slab of material five centimeters thick; the triangle’s hypotenuse measured 40 centimeters along a flat, polished edging. The adjoining edges were both rough and showed kerf marks. He handed it respectfully to Alec. “It’s here, see!” Alec said with satisfaction. He brushed lint off one surface of the triangle. Only one side contained any markings, and these were incomplete. The glyph etchings ran along the length above the finished edge, with characters at each end being cut off at the break.

Alec held the artifact before him and slowly turned in a circle. The glow grew brighter and then returned to the lower state. Alec stopped and turned slowly back. The illumination grew as he pointed it down one row of cases.

“This way.” He walked down the aisle, and Dancer paralleled him down another row of cases — the cultural wealth of a race, saved for millennia, now at their disposal. The radiance of the material intensified. Dancer was attracted to an instrument in one of the cases. It was an elaborate set of drums; one could see that the design was that of a master musician and lovingly cared for. Dancer scanned the drum set into his datapad for reproduction at a later time.

Alec stopped in front of a display with another triangle of glowing material. “We found it!” he said with excitement. “That makes two pieces of the inscription we have found.”

Dancer scanned the display with a modicum of concern. “I can’t find any sensors or mechanical security systems on this case.” He looked up from the display and said, with a touch of amazement, “Seems they think that, if you got this far, then you’re entitled to handle the artifacts.”

Dancer put his datapad down and opened the glass countertop slowly and with care. He took the piece from the case and held it up next to Alec’s. The two pieces glowed even brighter as the distance diminished between them. Dancer tried to fit them together like pieces of a puzzle; though they didn’t fit, the proximity caused a three-dimensional image to appear a quarter meter above them. The projection was a buckyball made up of polygons and hexagons slowly rotating.

“It’s real this time,” Alec stated with delight as he looked intently at the object that floated in front of him. “We’ll figure out what that projection is when we get back to the
Quest
.” Alec wrapped the piece back up in the velvet cloth Dancer handed him. Dancer took a second piece of velvet from his compartment and wrapped up the new piece.

“What do you think they’re trying to show us?” Dancer asked curiously, as he fit the triangles into his lower-back compartment.

“Together, the inscription pieces should have created a galactic map that would lead us to the home world of the lost tribe.” Alec hesitated. “I’m not sure what this is yet, but maybe the third piece gives the details. The original archaeological field work was done by my father.”

He began walking through the rows of display cases again. The flying squadron of disks had transmitted terabytes of data to Dancer. Alec scanned the rest of the room with his datapad and stopped at a case with delicate crystal figures. “I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t either talking or thinking about finding a place to keep us safe from the races hunting humans as sport. All the while, the rest of the older races were otherwise occupied.” Bittersweet memories bubbled up in Alec. “My dad said the map would lead us to a place where humans lived in peace.”

Dancer watched the disks in the distance darting about and capturing data on the other relics. “I honored his wishes. I did know him well; his quest was a worthy one. I… envy his ability to expect a desired outcome from the future.”

“Hope. Those souls will yet have a world to walk upon,” Alec replied with sorrow in his voice. His attitude changed as he patted the piece under his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dancer looked about inquiringly. “What about all this?”

“We lock the doors behind us when we leave and destroy the parabolic reflectors,” he said smartly. Alec gestured to the cases all around them. “I have what I need, and that’s enough. The rest of these artifacts stay here in the museum.” He motioned for Dancer to follow. “Let’s get out of here.” They made their way to the doors of the exhibition hall. The flying disks hurried to catch up with them, taking full scans of cases as they darted back and forth. Dancer opened the compartment again as the disks arrived, and they flew into place. Dancer called out, “Come on, we have to go.” One straggler disk scooted over after one last case scan and buzzed by Alec, flying into the last spot on Dancer’s abdomen. Alec glanced over at Dancer. Dancer responded, “They are a very curious group of drones, as you well know, constantly exploring their environment if left to it.” He checked himself then. “You are practically a professional student — you should understand knowledge for knowledge’s sake.”