Under the Bridge Page 2

  Exploration: Three Days After Landing

  “Do the inhabitants of that planet up there call their moon MAQS, or does the System just spit out random names?” asked Rodhir, riding in a small personal rover that he assembled himself, and staring at the planet overhead. He seems to be having fun, but I need to keep a watchful eye over him. For his own sake.

  We figured out what happened to the Backup Construct. A faulty copper pipe had developed a microfracture upon landing, and its function was critical to delivering refrigeration fluid to keep the backup Sero at the proper temperature. Well, so much for the most cutting-edge spacecraft that the “advanced” Tessian civilization has to offer. Or had to offer, a thousand years ago. As Steiya and Rodhir discovered, it ruptured. Of course it did, because nothing makes a forty-seven light-year journey more exciting than an explosion in a backup vessal. The Sero reserves chamber was flooded with cooling liquid. In all of their tests, the Tessian Exploration Agency never saw this coming? Or did they know, and just brushed it off as ‘statistically insignificant’? Pure Sero is notoriously volatile, and quick temperature changes will create a dangerously unstable situation. Only a small part of the sensitive Sero released its untamed energy, but it still tore through the Backup Construct. Actually, that is not quite true. Not only did the resulting explosion destroy the Backup Construct to the point where almost nothing now remains of it, but it also eviscerated the landscape and exhumed a massive chunk of the moon. Where the Construct used to sit, there is now a crater fifteen meters deep, and almost a hundred and fifty meters in diameter.

  In any case, we will be fine. We have enough Sero in all cryoarcane preservers inside our landing Pods for a return trip, and there is the possibility of finding more here. Speaking of which, there seems to be small specks of daetrite sand here. There must be more nearby, but the surface around here is full of deep craters. Rodhir’s personal transporter could prove useful for something other than driving circles around me.

  “Oh right, Rodhir, you asked about the inhabitants of the planet over there? Well, our sound probes have confirmed that they do indeed communicate by sound vibrations, just like us. Mezion is what they call their planet.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Well, Steiya has taken up the hobby of trying to translate their language. I guess System Operators have nothing else to do, those lucky bastards. She said it means ‘united’ or something along those lines.”

  “Cute. Are they intelligent enough to start killing each other yet?”

  “Yes, the usual sharpened sticks and other nonsense of primitive civilizations,” I said

  “Amusing. So much for being ‘united’,” said Rodhir. In a few moments, the other three exochemists on our team arrived.

  “Hello, gentlemen,” said Foltar, speaking for the group. “We’ve had a talk with Norak, and we suspect there might be a small potential site of Daetrite-seronotium about 1.2 kilometers due north of here. If our estimate is correct, there may be enough to power a large Selsteili city for thousands of years, and some leftover for lab work. We would need much more to justify this mission. Still, I remain optimistic, as the System chose this moon specifically as the only source of the stuff in our local star cluster.” The other two exochemists beside him nodded their heads.

  That’s just not enough. We need Sero. Our entire multi-planetary civilization runs on it. All the wonders of our technology depend on it. All of our space travel would cease immediately if we ran out of it, our high quality of life, and our power would erode to nothing. Not to mention the incredible abilities it gives to the individual who consumes refined, pure Sero. Lightning in your bones and fire in your breath, water, ice, the winds around you and the ground beneath your feet, all under your command, at least for a short while. If we had enough, we would be gods. Theory has it that with a massive supply of Sero, we could command time itself. But who knows, such a supply may never be found, and the only source of Sero we have is one of the small moons on Selsteil, enough to sustain our civilization for a few more thousand years. After that, and we will be no better than the primitive beings on that planet up there. Millennia of progress wiped out due to dependency on these black crystals, and we might be the only ones who may find them. It might be the only other source in the galaxy, or it may not be enough, or not there at all… a miscalculation that would be devastating when the message arrives at the Capital. I have a slight hunch that keeping billions of people under control would become a tad difficult if all of our advanced technology ceased to function.

  As we neared the supposed site, the rocky bridges created by the AAE bots had started to appear and completely transformed the terrain. Navigating the bridges was a bit treacherous, as the bots shocked the daetrite sand into place with high voltage, creating a wrinkled, sometimes jagged structure resembling petrified lightning. It feels eerie to have these entangling structures surround us to the horizon’s end. I can see them criss-cross, with some of them merged, large bridges and small, and yet still uniform in feature as the same algorithm and series of robots printed them all. Underneath, some of them covered deep dark fissures, while others only small craters—the latter should not have happened if the AAE’s worked properly. We would need to go under the craggy arches of these bridges to search the sand and dirt in the craters for our beloved resource, but from here, I could see no sight of the signature black land that would indicate a source of unrefined Daetrite-seronotium.

  “So, where’s the magic ice?” asked Rodhir. I joined along with the exochemists in searching under the bridges, while Rodhir rode over and under them in his transport rover, hoping to find anything to put in the storage space to justify the assembly of the machine.

  Nothing. Surely this mission could not have been a mistake?

  “This can’t be right; the reports have shown that in the past this region has had specks of zero albedo and null radioactivity through our Foriro examiner. The terrain may look equivalent to the sand and dust on the rest of the moon, but the Jorrah-1 probe indicated that this must be fine, bleached daetrite sand, and…” Foltar went on talking at length, trying to defend his previous findings.

  “I will take some of this sand for examination, and find out if it is truly daetrite. If it is, Seronotium could still have fused with it over the eons somewhere deep beneath the surface of this moon,” I said.

  I knelt down and began brush away large swaths of the dust by my feet, and I noticed small particles of sand that immediately caught my attention. I frantically started to sweep the grey sand away and found tiny black specks littered beneath the top layer. The other exochemists noticed me, as did Rodhir. The rover’s drill arm started its soundless spin, and we, not blessed with rovers, quickly put to use the shovels inside the rover’s spacious trunk. Soon enough, we discovered large crystals of fused black ice and sand, each about the size of my hand. Our personal cooling systems are going to have a busy day, as are we.

  The Incident: Six Days After Landing

  My excitement was booming. How could it not? After chatting with Zaria, I almost flew to Refinery Module One, located in Norak’s Pod. Today should be the day when the first batch of Sero would be completely refined, stripped of its dark matter and daetrite sand bonds, leaving it as a pale blue liquid.

  This is the stuff of dreams. The drink of gods, the enabler of magic, and the driving force of our civilization, all distilled in small but sturdy glass vials on a moon forty-seven light-years from our home. I opened the outer air lock door of Norak’s Pod that housed one of the Sero Refinery Modules, wiped the surprisingly sticky moon dust off my boots and waited as the nitric oxide reached breathable levels. As I opened the second, interior air lock door, a familiar face greeted me.

  “Mr. Hufkin, you have found my diabolical lair and I truly hope you enjoy the sight, for it will be your last!” Norak roared, quoting a terrible but popular moving picture back on Torohol.

  “I'm truly glad you never took up acting, Norak. I heard that your “lair�
�� has some Sero in it? The last time I held pure Sero in my hands was almost a thousand years ago! And that’s not a hyperbole,” I chuckled. Norak smiled. It is great to talk with someone who loves science and shares the same curiosity for Sero as I do.

  “Indeed! I'm still working on trajectory analysis of a few objects, but I'll be with you shortly. I'm eager to personally see some exciting experiments with Sero just as much as you are,” he replied.

  As I made my way to the Sero refinery, my excitement grew to see the famous celestial dynamics observatory again. The observatory! It is such an incredibly complex and expensive module. We only have two of them available to us out of the initial three; another is in Zaria’s Pod (Joranna was supposed to operate it, may the gods guide her), and the third used to be in the Backup Construct. I know that all astrophysicists had to spend many a grueling years training with these observatories, figuring out the paths of stars, moons, comets, asteroids and whatever other space nonsense that might challenge our mission. I wonder if Norak can handle such a vast amount of work and data all by himself.

  I entered the Sero Refinery Module, and there I saw, at the end of the room inside the refrigeration unit, a vial with the blue Sero. Floating through space for 970 years was worth it only for a glance at such a beautiful sight. I took the icy cold glass vial in my hands and looked deeply into the pale sapphire liquid. Norak was in the other module, working on figuring out which asteroids and comets are likely to kill us, so I was all alone with the stuff of magic.

  A full vial. We have found a good deal of the unrefined black ice under the bridges a few days ago, and at the rate of extraction, we will bring enough to astound even the Overseers of the Tessian Civilization. Norak as well as the other exochemists have concluded there is a very large amount of Daetrite-seronotium hidden deep under the surface. So much so that Zaria sent out a wide broadcast today to all Explorers in a fifty light-year radius to help continue the extraction after we leave. This moon could power our civilization for thousands of years to come. Dare I say millions?

  That being said, I am sure no one would notice the difference if a few milliliters went missing. If we are talking about hundreds of tons of this stuff, I am sure I can get away with drinking half of a small vial. We still have a lot remaining for our experiments. Plus, I can treat this as an experiment of sorts, for science. I’ll title it ‘Sensory experience of biological effects of pure Sero under controlled conditions’. It has been so long since I have tried Sero that I have almost forgotten the feeling of the power that it gives. I can wait no longer!

  I unlocked the top of the chilled vial by pressing and twisting the sides of the cap that kept the vial sealed. It is pure genius; this bulky cap will keep the Sero vial at the proper temperature for a day or two should refrigeration fail. The cooling liquid in the Backup Construct must have eaten through this. Nasty stuff.

  I let half of the vial drip into my mouth. At first, I could only feel the cold liquid slide down to my stomach, but I did not have to wait long for the true effects to feel noticeable.

  Oh my, oh my! The fire in my bones, the lightning in my breath! Oh heavens, it is almost overwhelming, this is a lot of magic circulating through my veins… Just relax—I can easily control this. I have done this before, albeit I was younger, but I can still manage this. Oh gods, I cannot keep still, my entire body is trembling! What is this? I see a wispy strand of purple, some kind of plasma-like substance, emanating from my hand. What a peculiar substance, it is filling the entire room, and it is getting brighter, I wonder what this is? Looks like it is glinting over there—

  ***

  Ugh. I feel so incredibly dizzy. I open my eyes, and I see horrible landscape of destruction surround me. Debris was strewn across the dusty lunar landscape, pieces of the bleached Pod module walls here and there, and I lie here not knowing what in the three hells just happened. I quickly realize I do not have my suit on, and there is no nitric oxide to breathe. Even though I cannot breathe, I feel no need to. My lungs should have popped. I should have frozen to death. I am outside, lying on the surface of this moon without a suit on, but I am not dead. What happened?

  That bright purple plasma flowing from my hand, it must have been some type of magic. If it pulsed… yes, it must have pulsed. A magical pulse is what we would use to deflect asteroids and comets; that must have triggered a violent explosion. Just like the Backup Construct. Think, Danbir! My head is spinning, and I cannot keep my eyes still. The Sero in my blood must be protecting me, keeping me alive somehow. If the situation were not so dire, this would be a prime time to document all of this and research… what happened to Norak? He was in the Pod at the time, but he was not wearing his suit. I need to get to safety before my body starts to process and remove the Sero, or there will not be much left flowing through my veins to keep me alive.

  I lift myself up, and I make a series of jumps towards the epicenter of the catastrophe. The explosion absolutely obliterated the Pod. That means a third of our collected Daetrite-seronotium is gone as well. Searching through the debris, there were pieces of the celestial observatory littering the site. There, under a Pod panel lying on the ground, I could see something out of place. Oh no.

  Trying to run in this gravity is more like high speed hopping, but I’m still trying to move as fast as I could. There were a few people outside already, heading towards the explosion site in mutual curiosity and apprehension.

  I arrive at my Pod. The exterior door opens slowly, and I rush through the airlock procedure, and breathe knowing I escaped Death’s clutches. The God of Death has instead chosen to take another soul today. Norak… your journey ends; may the gods guide you. I am still absent-mindedly clutching the half-vial of Sero that I drank at the Refinery. Standing in front of Rodhir’s photo of his wife and daughter on the wall, I take out the removable panel behind it and hide the vial there. There, it is safe, at least for a day or two before it will become unstable. A worry for another time.

  A few moments later, with my suit on, I come out of my Pod’s airlock. I turn on the short-range MPCS on my suit, and hear a flurry of voices.

  “His short-range radio is on.”

  “Danbir, are you there?”

  “No radio contact from Norak.”

  “Has anyone got word from Danbir?”

  Everyone spoke at the same time. “Danbir here,” I answer. “I assume all responsibility. What happened was—“

  I did not know what to think anymore. This mission is falling apart. Jorana, and now Norak, both of our astrophysicists gone; may the gods guide them.

  “Danbir, tell us what happened to Norak’s Pod, you were there last,” said Zaria.

  I explain the sad, ugly scene to Zaria.

  The Bridge: Seven Days After Landing

  Such an act back on Selsteil would have warranted Redemption. And no one wants to be Redeemed. Memories and emotions completely erased, and then the System builds you back up from scratch, but updated, perfect in the eyes of the System. You can only be a criminal once, and once you have been Redeemed, you’ll never commit a criminal act ever again. Just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine. Zaria has stripped me of my exochemist role, and has instead sent me to search for the Automated Artificial Explorer bots that are building these bridges, and to disable them. Rodhir is tagging along; it’s helpful to ride on a rover for this. I wonder if I will return to harsher measures from Zaria after this obviously temporary exile.

  On Selsteil, the topic of death is not of great concern. People come and go, and mourning is non-existent. But I’m not from Selsteil. I was born on planet Boltorra, and things are different there. I cannot shake off the feeling of being personally responsible for someone’s death. In an instant, their existence is revoked. A future timeline that could have been, aborted. Although the act of killing someone is punished by Redemption on all Tessian planets, the Boltorrans feel the emotional strain on their minds that the act produces over time, before being Redeemed that is.

  “
You know,” spoke Rodhir as we rode over a rocky bridge, one of many that surrounded us, weaving and interlocking like long serpents back in the jungles of Selsteil, “I haven’t told you this, but I was raised by Boltorrans. Both my parents were from Boltorra, but they passed away long before we first met. I was only nine when that happened, and I’ve been a wanderer ever since. Thanks for helping me get into the Explorers, Danbir. They said I wasn’t fit to join,” he said.

  “I guess that makes you my planetary half-brother! Thanks for joining me when all others cast me aside after the incident,” I replied. Perhaps I joined the Explorers because a part of me has never really been able to find a home either. I’ve moved from planet to planet, but I guess I’ve never really been able to find what I want. There’s nothing like exploring the fringes of the galaxy to figure out what you want to do with your life.

  As we continued our trek, I could see some of the surrounding bridges have collapsed inwards, and I warned Rodhir to be careful. They are built on a daetrite foundation, so they must be unstable as there is little more than sand supporting these heavy structures.

  Suddenly, a very sharp but brief burst of static erupted from our short-range radios, and then silence. Rodhir and I looked at each other without words for a moment, in a haze of confusion. I looked back, and saw a colossal plume of dust expanding in the distance, with small chunks of lunar material flying high over the horizon.

  “Zaria? Are you seeing that plume of dust? Don’t tell me you don’t, you can’t miss it, it’s billowing over the horizon,” said Rodhir over the radio. “Zaria?” he repeated after a moment.

  “Zaria? Steiya? That’s odd, we should be in range for radio contact,” I said.