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Serial (Morgaine's Familiar) |
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Short Story
Artifact
by
Joe Vadalma
The AI controlled starship, named Neil
Armstrong after the legendary astronaut, orbited a nameless singularity at a
distance just far enough away to avoid being pulled apart by gravitational
tides. It had one passenger, Rog Crepzom, an archeoalienist. Gravity waves from
the white hole tugged at the ship so that it shuddered and shook as the Neil
compensated for the uneven gravity of the singularity’s rotation.
Nonetheless, Crepzom stood with but one hand lightly resting on a rail as he
peered at the viewscreen.
Actually there was
nothing to see. The singularity had long ago swept the system clean of matter.
It’s presence could only be known by the fact that it occluded stars
behind it, and of course, the tremendous pull of its gravitational tug.
“You actually
expect me to go into that?” Neil’s mechanical voice asked over the
ship’s speakers.
Crepzom smiled.
“Of course. It is the reason we came all this distance. What are you
afraid of? We’ve gone through hundreds of singularities to get here. This
is just one more slide through two points next to each other in a fifth
dimension.”
“All the others
were stargates built by AI’s. This is a natural white hole. I could be
torn apart by its gravity fluctuations before I reached its event horizon, much
less pass beyond.”
“How can you
conclude that it's natural? White holes by their very nature must be
artificial. From measurements you, yourself, have taken, you concluded that it
was artificial, as I theorized all along. Since it was built by an alien race,
it has different characteristics from one build by AI’s, who are
patterned after their creators, humans. A master pilot, such as yourself,
should have no trouble navigating it.”
An odd sound came
from the speakers. Crepzom knew that it was Neil’s laughter. “Flattery will get you nowhere,
Doctor Crepzom. The danger factor of spacing through that object is five point
three. In other words, there is more than a fifty-fifty chance that I will be
destroyed. And if I go, you will too.”
“Nonetheless,
must I remind you of your commitment to go through with this mission? I
don’t recall any clauses in our contract about avoiding danger.”
“Very well. Get
ready for a rough ride.”
Crepzom strapped
himself into his acceleration couch. “Ready.”
The ship shuddered
and rumbled -- the firing of the ship’s great ion drive engines. As
G-forces pushed Crepzom into the padding, fear dampened his forehead with
perspiration. The horrendous black quickly enlarged like a great mouth eating
the stars. Crepzom’s confidence that they would arrive on the other side
alive became shakier. But there was nothing to be done about it at that
juncture. The ship was already in the area of negative energy, the so-called
point of no return. Neil could no longer escape the gigantic gravity well even
if ordered to do so. In moments Crepzom would either be crushed to elementary
particles or find himself somewhere else in the universe.
* * *
Archeoalienists as a
group were considered odd eccentrics. Most people living in the forty-third
century would wonder why anyone would waste their life chasing around the
galaxy exploring dead worlds to find shards of pottery and crumbling ruins left
by races extinct for millions of
years. This was especially true in the Orion Arm Corporate Empire in the
year 4291. Throughout the Orion arm of the galaxy, AI’s provided for all
human needs. They were both servants and benevolent masters to humanity. Since
they were more intelligent and more logical than men, almost all science was
done by them,. Most science, that is, except for studies dealing with past
civilizations. The super intelligent AI’s considered such knowledge
superfluous since it did not contribute directly to the welfare of humanity or
themselves.
Even among
archeoalienists, Rog Crepzom was considered a rebel and deviationist. His
fellow archeoalienists were quite content to dig their trenches on planets
within a hundred light-years of Procyon, those which were known to have been
occupied by the Doreens, the Iahi Daon Colonial Empire, or even the unnamed
interstellar civilization known only as HIE121CZE. Crepzom wanted to make his
mark by discovering an alien race older than any known at the time. His
colleagues scoffed at this ambition. One said to him, “Crepzom, my boy,
even if an alien civilization existed more than thirty-five million years ago,
no evidence of it would ever be found today. Time eventually destroys even the
traces.”
Another theory of his
that was laughed at was that the recently discovered white holes deemed
“natural phenomena” by astrophysicists were built by civilizations
in the inconceivable long dead past. To prove his theory, Crepzom had traveled
extreme distances from his home world to find out where such a
“natural” white hole led, if anywhere. The one he had chosen was
located within the NGC 7086 cluster
at the very edge of the Orion Empire. He was sure that he that passing through it would provide
proof of the existence of an alien race even older than the legendary Tunniers.
* * *
As Neil entered the
singularity’s event horizon at a tremendous speed, Crepzom felt as though
he was being torn apart, that time itself had stopped, that he had been dropped
into a kaleidoscope of whirling colors and form, that he was going mad and that
he was dying -- all at the same time. Moments later, all weight left him. On
the viewscreen was one of the most beautiful vistas in the universe. So
wonderful and awesome was the sight, it brought tears to his eyes. He was
gazing at the Milky Way galaxy from a viewpoint directly above its central
bulge at a distance that he estimated as twenty thousand light-years. It filled
the viewer, its spiral arms sparkling like a child’s twirly toy.
“I have passed
through the singularity without damage,” reported Neil unemotionally.
“I estimate our new position as directly above the galactic plane three
point two degrees north, five point three degrees east of the central bulge and
twenty-one thousand two hundred and thirty five point one light-years
distance.”
“Isn’t it
gorgeous?”
“Yes, as seen
from vantage point the galaxy has a certain pleasant aesthetic quality. Also, I
detect a metallic object of an artificial nature less that five thousand
kilometers from our current position.”
“Wonderful.
Head for it immediately. What's its size?”
The galaxy
disappeared from the viewscreen to be replaced by an object too dim for Crepzom
to make out any details. “The object is one hundred and sixty-five meters
in diameter. I postulate that it is either a large circular spaceship or a
small space station.”
“Please
magnify.” Even when the object filled the viewscreen, it was too dark for
Crepzom to tell anything about it except that it was roughly spherical.
“I still can’t make out any details.”
“The nearest
sun is several parsecs from here. The only natural light in this area is from
the galaxy and distant stars, “ remarked Neil.
An hour later Neil had placed itself in orbit
around the object. It used spotlights mounted on its underbelly to illuminate
it. Crepzom paced back and forth. By this time, he could barely contain his
excitement and curiosity. Nonetheless, he knew he must be patient and do things
in the correct order. In the viewscreen, the object was obviously metallic and
pockmarked by micrometeorite strikes, which told him that it had to very
ancient indeed to be struck so many times in this empty portion of space.
“Take pics for several orbits, Neil. Give me a chemical and structural
analysis. Do I see hieroglyphics in that area?” He pointed at the lower
left corner of the viewscreen.
“It is a hollow
sphere, constructed of alloys of iron, magnesium and a metal whose nature I am
unable to determine. If those squiggles are hieroglyphics, they are in no known
language past or present. I searched the archeoalienist data base you provided
and found no comparisons with any known ancient race. It is likely that they
are mere designs.”
“Or in a
language of a previously unknown civilization!” Crepzom could hardly
contain himself. He was itching to don his space suit and explore. “Do
you see any egress?”
“Yes, there is
a circular indentation which could be an entrance hatch. It is three meters
wide, obviously not built for someone your size.”
“No doubt the
aliens that made this thing were much different than humans. Or, the doorway
could have been used to allow a vehicle to enter the artifact. What else can
you tell me about the object?”
“According to
iron dating by atomic decay, the shell is ninety two million years old.”
“Ah hah. It's
just as I thought. This is a major discovery. I’ve found an artifact
built by beings who lived over ninety million years ago. What can you tell me
of the interior?”
“The metal of
its outer shell is difficult to penetrate with detection gear. About all I can
tell is that it is mostly empty, but divided into compartments.”
“No gases or
liquids?”
“A trace of
oxygen and argon. For practical purposes, the interior may be considered to
contain a vacuum only slightly less pure than the space surrounding it.”
“Okay, keep
testing the exterior. I’m going to explore.”
Crepzom donned a
spacesuit and squeezed into a one-man shuttle. He landed near the circular
indentation and exited the tiny craft. There were several strangely shaped
knobs at one end. He assumed that these were used to operate the hatch. He took
some pictures and tried various ways of manipulating them -- to no avail. The
hatch, if that was what it was, remained impenetrable. Although he hated having
to mar the alien artifact, he knew he must if he was to gain access to the
interior. He returned to the pod
for a proton torch.
It took Crepzom two
hours to cut an opening large enough to squeeze through wearing a bulky
spacesuit. Using the suit’s head lamp for light, he began to explore. As
Neil had extrapolated, the interior was divided into compartments and hallways.
To Crepzom’s disappointment, these were empty of artifacts. There were
hieroglyphs on some walls similar to the one’s on the surface, but
nothing that gave a clue as to what the builders had been like. In one room he
found a small bit of metal that could’ve been a fastening device similar
to a screw or bolt. He took pictures of its location and placed it inside his
hermetically sealed collection bag. The interior was enormous, and hatches, much
larger than a man would need, led to deeper levels.
Crepzom checked his
oxygen level and informed Neil before floating down through one of the open
hatches. Below were more empty hallways and rooms. Whenever the builders had
abandoned the station (he began to think of the artifact as a space station,
probably used in conjunction with the singularity), they had removed
everything, every piece of equipment, every scrap of personal effects, every
tool.
He wandered deeper
into the interior. Everything was the same, simply empty rooms and corridors.
It was eerie. The alien race must have gone through great lengths to ensure
that no one would find anything that would tell that investigator anything
about them.
Neil buzzed him a
warning. “You must return to me soon. Your oxygen is running low.”
Crepzom checked his
gauge. He had just enough to make his way up through the various levels and
return to shuttle, with just a bit to spare. He radioed Neil, “On my
way.”
Nonetheless, he did
not immediately head for the artifact’s surface. There was a closed hatch that aroused his curiosity. Like
the one on the exterior bulkhead, it had five strangely shaped knobs. Crepzom
imagined creatures with five hands. Using toolbots, he manipulated all of them
at the same time. After several tries, he heard a satisfying click, and the
hatch opened. To his delight, he had entered a control room. He radioed Neil.
“Neil, I’ve found something important. Send a bot down with
additional oxy. Here are my
coordinates within the artifact.” He keyed in numbers on his pad and sent
them back to the ship.
As he waited for the
bot, he took pictures and carefully examined the equipment without touching it.
As he surmised earlier, the builders had been large, perhaps twice as tall and
four times as bulky as human beings. Also, they must have had at least five
manipulating appendages; he could not tell whether they were similar to hands,
elephant’s trunks, tentacles or something different altogether.
After a while, he
began to worry. His oxygen gauge told him that he no longer had enough reserves
to return to the shuttle. He hoped he had given Neil the correct coordinates
and checked them on his pad. Finally the bot showed up with extra tanks, enough
oxygen for several hours, enough time to examine the artifact’s controls
in minute detail.
The knobs, gauges,
levers, and raised dimples before him were strange. The hieroglyphics were
everywhere on what he assumed was the main control panel. He sighed. It would
be wonderful if he could decipher them. But that would take study and computing
power. It was task for the long journey home. As he examined each control, he
tried to guess what it was for. After he thought about it for a while, he came
to the conclusion that since the station was near the singularity, at least a
portion of the control panel would be used to communicate with starships
entering and leaving it. Other controls must be for maintaining the
station’s environment. Perhaps some had to do with repairs and
maintenance.
Dare I manipulate
one? he thought. “What harm could it do?”
There was a series of knobs close together. Using the bots
again, he twisted five that were grouped together. What was a blank wall was
transformed into a viewscreen. It lit up, a being appeared, and noises sounding
like grunts, mutters, and belches came from hidden speakers. Crepzom assumed
that it was the being’s speech. The alien creature was strange, a sort of
blob with tentacles and thick hairy legs. Crepzom assumed that the three holes
opening and closing were its mouths. He could not detect any visual organs,
unless the blotches on its upper region were eyes. Its clothing consisted of
strips around various parts of its body from which metallic objects hung which
could be decorations, tools or weapons. Crepzom switched on his recording
equipment.
The alien seemed to
be lecturing about something, its tentacles waving at what could be abstract
art or indecipherable charts. None of the creature's speech and arm movement
seemed to have relationship with the control panel or anything else Crepzom had
found on the artifact. The recording continued for a half an hour, before the
screen went blank. When Crepzom manipulated the levers again, the alien message
was repeated.
Crepzom looked over
the control board. A large disk covered with alien writing intrigued him. He
placed his palm on it. The next moment Neil shouted in his ear, “Crepzom!
Something is happening to singularity. It’s mass has suddenly
decreased.” Crepzom pulled his hand away as though the disk were a hot
plate. “It returned to normal. Doctor Crepzom, you should return to me as
quickly as possible. If the singularity is unstable, we may not be able to
return. We could be marooned here thousands of parsecs from any humanoid or AI
inhabited system.”
“I don’t
believe it's actually unstable, Neil. I touched a control that may have
manipulated it. Let me try an experiment.” He touched the disk again.
“Did the singularity’s mass decrease again?”
“Yes, by the
same amount.”
Crepzom removed his
hand. “And did it now return to normal?”
“Yes it
did.”
“Ah ha, my
theory is proved. The alien race who built this artifact also constructed the
singularity. It can be controlled from here.”
“I understand.
Doctor Crepzom, do not touch any more controls. Who knows what you might do to
the singularity.”
“Oh, I’ll
keep away from those all right.” Crepzom felt that any controls which
manipulated the white hole would be grouped near the disk. He gazed around at
the other devices. One panel contained a set of covered switches. He flipped
back their covers and changed the position of one. Nothing happened.
A few seconds later,
Neil screeched in his ear, “Red Alert! Red Alert! We’re under
attack. A missile is ...” A sound like an explosion came through
Crepzom’s earphones and then silence. Oh my Mainbrain, what have I
done?
Further efforts to contact Neil failed. Crepzom quickly made his way up to surface of
the artifact. He scanned the sky. There was no sign of Neil. He went to the
shuttle and turned on its detection device. The area where Neil had been was
filled fragments of metal and plastic fleeing each other at an explosive rate.
Crepzom burst into tears. Apparently he had launched a weapon ,which destroyed
his best friend and only way of returning home.
At first he was so
devastated he could not think straight. But after a long time, he calmed down
and tried to figure a way out of his dilemma. He still had the shuttle. Perhaps
he pilot it through the singularity. Then he recalled that it would be
necessary to achieve tremendous speeds and enter on a trajectory that only a
highly sophisticated AI pilot could achieve. Neither he nor the shuttle had
such a capability. To attempt such a feat would be certain suicide.
His next thought was
that since this space station was a way station, perhaps a starship was still
berthed on it somewhere. If it was AI controlled like his now defunct vessel,
he might use it to go through the white hole. But he would surely run out of
oxygen before it found it within the enormous artifact. He snapped his finger.
Neil had said that there were traces of oxygen and argon. The aliens must've
been oxygen breathers. If he could restore the environment, he could live for a
long time breathing an atmosphere of oxygen and argon. He also had water and
dehydrated food aboard the shuttle.
He examined the alien
control panel again. He now knew which panel was used to control the
singularity and which contained weaponry. He also bypassed the panel that had
the device that initiated the recording. Finally, he decided that a panel which
contained several dials and indicator lights must be the one that controlled
the space station's environment. He manipulated a control. Immediately a
hissing started, an indicator light turned blue and a needle on gauge slowly
rose. When it reached its maximum after several minutes, he tested the
atmosphere. To his joy, it was seventy percent oxygen and thirty percent argon,
pressure one point three atmospheres -- definitely breathable.
He opened the hatch
and retested. To his joy, the entire ship was filled with the gas. He removed
his helmet, took a deep breath and returned to the control room. The
temperature was still extremely cold. He tried various knobs until he found one
that raised the temperature to a comfortable seventy-two degrees. He removed
his spacesuit, packed water, food and supplies in a backpack and began to
explore in earnest.
To his good fortune,
he found a control that turned on lights throughout the station. Systematically,
he searched through every compartment and corridor. He found a few small
artifacts which he added to is bag, none of which were of any great importance,
but he discovered no spaceship of any kind, not even an escape pod.
It took him days to
investigate the entire station. Finally, he realized that there was nothing
aboard that would help him. Unless someone came through the white hole to
rescue him, once his supplies ran out he would die of hunger and thirst. Since
he had kept his destination a secret, rescue was unlikely. Only Neil had known
where they were going. How vain, overly ambitious and foolish I’ve
been, he bemoaned as he rose up to the outer surface and gazed at the jewel
of a billion suns lighting up the only sky he would ever see for the rest of
his short life.
* * *
A thousand years
later another archeoalienist found his body, perfectly preserved and wondered
how it happened to be on an alien artifact a thousand light-years from
nowhere.
The End
If you liked this story, you might like to read one of my anthologies. Click on the word anthology for more information.