Thunderbird (11 page)

Point me out the way

To any one particular beauteous star,

And I will flit into it with my lyre,

And make its silvery splendor pant with bliss.

—John Keats,
Hyperion
, 1819

B
RAD
DECIDED
TO
wear the Grand Forks police baseball cap that the chief had given him during one of his visits. He liked being mistaken for a police officer. He wouldn't have admitted that, but it made him feel a bit more like Bruce Willis. He slipped the .38 into the shoulder holster and drew his jacket over it. Donna knew he was taking it, of course. In fact, she
wanted
him to take it, but that didn't mean she quite trusted him with the weapon. “Don't shoot anybody,” she said, as they waited for April to arrive.

He succeeded in putting aside his reservations, almost persuading himself he was looking forward to joining the mission. Matt Fanny would be taking over
Grand Forks Live
, but Brad would be the dominant topic of conversation that morning. That was good, and he would have enjoyed listening but could see no way to do that with April in the car. He wondered if there was any chance of another breakdown in the system. Something that would require them to postpone the mission again.

Donna kissed him and smiled and told him to be careful. Then she grabbed her own coat as the mission leader pulled up outside. She was running late for the school. But she paused to squeeze his hand.

Brad said, “I love you,” trying not to let them sound like last words. Then he went out onto the sidewalk, said hi to April in the blustery cold, opened the door, and climbed in.

The women waved to each other. Donna was heading for
her
car. There was a final wave as she pulled away.

April handed him a card that identified him as a member of Eden Mission Seven. She was wearing a floppy fedora.

“You going as Indiana?” he asked, as they headed west out of Grand Forks and started across the plains.

“Does it look that good?”

“It's perfect.”

“Forgot my whip.”

They laughed and talked about movies for a few minutes, but Brad couldn't get his mind off the grid. “It's okay,” April said, reading his thoughts. “It's perfectly safe. We've made a number of trips now. Never had a problem. Believe me, Brad, if there were any risk to this, I wouldn't be doing it.” She looked especially good that morning. Maybe because she represented a solid terrestrial presence when projected against the mad fantasy located on the ridge.

“Can anyone explain yet how it works?” he asked. “Does anybody have any idea at all?”

“Not that I know of. And to be honest, I don't know if we'll ever figure it out. The technology's on a whole different level from anything we've ever even thought about before.”

“When you went through that thing the first time, you were alone, right? You were putting chairs and balloons on the grid and punching buttons and the stuff vanished and you had no idea what was going on. And you just followed it.”

“Yeah.”

“That's probably the craziest thing I've ever heard. How could you have known everything wasn't being destroyed?”

“We didn't know for sure, Brad. But what would have been the point of putting a device in the Roundhouse that just wiped stuff out? Anyhow, the balloons looked as if they were disappearing. Fading out. Not disintegrating.”

She turned into a gas station. “Did you think about using a cat or something first?”

She shut the engine off and opened the door. “Experiment with a cat? If I did something like that, and my mother ever found out—”

•   •   •

T
HEY
CLEARED
THE
temporary gate, pulled into the parking area, and checked through the security people. April took him in tow and walked him along the side of the Roundhouse until they were able to look out over the cliff's edge, the section that would have been filled with Lake Agassiz in ancient times. “Thought you'd like to see this,” she said. A trench connected the building with the edge of the summit. They descended a ladder into it and followed it back into the building. Doors opened, and a Sioux security guard checked Brad's ID and mission card and stepped aside.

More doors opened electronically, and they walked through the trench that had once been used to launch boats into the lake, entering the transport area. To his right lay the circular grid that was the takeoff point for the teleportation device. A group of pool reporters were present. They would have come in through the front entrance off the parking lot.

She introduced Brad to their two security escorts, John Colmar and Paula Francisco. Brad remembered John from the funeral ceremony for Diana. The five scientists who would be making the crossover with them arrived a short time later. April spent a few minutes with them, explaining
the rules, do what the security people say, don't wander off, and so on. She reminded them it was midsummer on the other side.

They talked briefly with the reporters while Brad became aware he wasn't the only person present who was having second thoughts about teleportation. There was a fair amount of whispering going on among the scientists, and people staring at the grid, but April's manner had a calming effect. They were all relatively young. In fact, Brad suspected that, at thirty-two, he was probably the oldest person in the group. And everybody looked in decent shape. Obviously, that was a health consideration when they were choosing participants.

“The plan is simple enough,” April said, talking to both scientists and the media. “All we want to do is extend our area of familiarity. We'll proceed south along the shoreline. It'll be shortly after sunrise when we arrive. We'll have about eight hours before it gets dark. When that happens, we'll quit for the night.” She paused. “Did anybody bring a firearm?”

The response shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it did. At least for Brad. Among the scientific team, Jeff McDermott, Cornelius Blake, and Chris Gold all had weapons. And Brad, of course. “Is there a problem?” asked Gold.

“No. Just be careful with it. Nothing's threatened us yet. And to tell the truth, we haven't seen anything that looked capable of threatening us. I'll remind you that you should only use it for defense. Don't kill any of the wildlife. And be aware, if you're not already, that the local animals almost certainly would not provide you with any nutrition, so don't even think about having any of them for dinner. Everybody understand?”

Nobody had a problem.

Backpacks, which included sleeping bags, were waiting for them. “Everybody has a food package as well. It's a little bit on the spartan side, but there's enough to meet your needs.” Canteens were lined up on a table. “Don't forget one of those.” She delivered a reassuring smile.

They looked at one another, and a few took deep breaths, and finally it was time to go.

•   •   •

J
OHN
C
OLMAR
STEPPED
onto the grid. Paula touched the wall behind it, and the arrow icon blinked on.

Abe Markowitz, a physicist, said, “Wait.” He was small, with blond hair, intense eyes, and a neatly trimmed mustache. “Be careful, John,” he said. “Your backpack's sticking out over the edge of the grid.”

“It's okay,” said April. “That doesn't seem to matter. The system has some sort of wraparound effect. You could put a car on there, and the whole car would go. So you don't have to worry about it.” She turned back to John. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are, April.”

Paula pushed the arrow. It brightened. They stood waiting for about half a minute, but finally an illuminated cloud appeared, enveloped John, and grew brighter. He looked out at them and grinned. And, along with the cloud, began to fade. Then they were both gone.

Brad could not avoid trembling. Everyone in the room had known it was coming, but they all looked uncomfortable. There was a lot of hesitation, until eventually Markowitz stepped forward. But April waved him back. Moments later the glowing cloud reappeared, then faded out again. April bent down over the grid and retrieved John's pen. “Everything's okay,” she said. “Abe, you wanted to go next?”

Abe looked as if he were on the verge of changing his mind. But he smiled at his own discomfort, came forward, checked his canteen, and let everyone see he was trying hard to relax as he mounted the grid. Astrophysicist Jennie Parker, from Caltech, joined him, and they went out together. Then Cornelius Blake and McDermott.

Finally, it was Brad's turn. Along with Chris Gold, a biologist. Gold was already on the grid. “Take your time, Brad,” said April. “When you're ready.”

There were other security people in the Roundhouse, as well as the reporters. He could feel everybody's eyes on him. A TV camera was picking up everything. Donna would see him on CNN later today.

When the grid was in use, it was raised about three inches above floor level. He stepped onto it, trying to laugh at his own fears. Groundless, he told himself. But his stomach was churning. It was one of those occasional moments when he was glad he'd never been part of the military. He just would not have been okay with people pointing guns at him.

“Okay,” said April. “See you on Eden, guys.”

He wanted to hold on to something, but there was no handrail available. Lights came on, engulfed him, and the Roundhouse interior began to fade. He was having trouble breathing. Then he saw two new figures in the blaze of light. It dimmed, and he was looking at Abe Markowitz and John Colmar. “How you doing?” said Abe.

Brad inhaled. Waited a minute for his voice to steady. “Never been better.”

•   •   •

H
E
WENT
OUTSIDE
and found himself absorbed in the quiet and serenity of a lush forest. The only sounds were the melodious singing of a few invisible birds and the rhythmic rumble of the sea. The sun was near the horizon. A few chairs and tables had been brought in by the Sioux. Cornelius Blake had gone around the side of the Cupola and was sitting on the beach, staring out at the ocean. Blake was a climatologist, a lean African-American who could have been a guy fresh out of college. But he had some major awards already though he nevertheless seemed uncertain of himself. That, though, was a quality every member of the team shared. Even April. Maybe this was something you never got used to. Getting teleported across a thousand light-years tends to induce a substantial level of humility.

Jeff McDermott, another biologist, stood at the front door taking pictures. Jeff was close to seven feet tall. Probably, Brad thought, a basketball player at one time. John was beside him, watching to make sure nothing unexpected came out of the forest. Paula stayed close to the grid and the icons. The security people had informed everyone to keep away from the
transport equipment when it wasn't actually being used. The Sioux escorts were the only ones permitted to manipulate the system. “They want to make sure,” said Paula, “that if somebody drops out of sight, they can limit the search perimeter.”

Like the Roundhouse, the outside of the Cupola did not maintain its transparency.

A few small birds, all apparently of the same type, came in from somewhere, landed, and began walking across the grass. When Brad moved in their direction, they scattered. “There's no hurry here,” April said. “If anyone wants to stop and look more closely at the vegetation or something, just give a yell. Whatever you guys want to do is okay.”

•   •   •

T
HE
AIR
WAS
fresh, and a steady breeze blew in off the ocean. Red, gold, and purple flowers bloomed everywhere. Something that looked like a turtle looked up, saw them, and hurried into the waves. They picked up their backpacks. April took the lead, and they started walking along the beach. Paula dropped behind and wished them luck. “Isn't she going with us?” Brad asked.

“No,” said April. “She's our contact with the Roundhouse. If something happens, and we need help, John will let her know, and she'll take the message back.”

“So she's going to sit back there for a couple of days?” asked Markowitz.

John shook his head. “She'll be here about six hours. Then she'll be relieved by one of the guys from the Roundhouse. Okay?” His voice suggested Abe sounded as if he thought the Sioux weren't smart enough to take care of their own.

Abe nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “How many radios do we have?”

“Three,” said April. “The escorts each have one, and I have one.”

Jeff, wearing a sidearm inside his belt, moved up front with April, while John assumed a position in the rear.

Save for the color of the vegetation, they could have been in Southern California. The sand was warm and crunched underfoot. Shells were scattered near the water. Long-beaked birds fluttered over an incoming tide, looking for dinner. The only thing missing was sunbathers.

A cluster of about a dozen small lizards came out of the forest, traveling together and headed toward the water. They made no effort to avoid the humans. Instead, April paused to let them pass.

There wasn't a lot of conversation because they were so overwhelmed by what they were seeing. Cornelius kept saying it was gorgeous. And incredible. And unbelievable. He kept dropping behind to get pictures.

Jennie, walking beside Brad, remarked that she was trying to visualize where they were, how it could be that they were out here by an ocean located in the Belt of Orion. “Do I have that right?” she asked. The others just smiled at her. “When I was a kid,” she continued, “my folks took me to see a magician, and I watched him make things appear and disappear, and it left me with a sense that magic really happens and anything's possible. That's a little bit the way I feel today.” She bit her lower lip, and her dark eyes sparkled. “This is the wildest day of my life.”