The Sleeper of the Ages Read online

  Before Kalymel fell asleep, he felt Rasturi lay her arm around his shoulders and drink. What he really thought, he did not want to say—and dared not. His occasional forays in the down-gravity direction to his secret did not concern Rasturi; knowledge of it would make her an equally guilty party.

  Do I know if the Naahk can start the OVIR again? I am afraid that the emptiness of the planet will end our love. Every path that we cannot take together leads us apart and to—where? Many have lost their para-abilities ... will we lose our own selves on the planet?

  Kalymel abruptly opened his eyes and smiled. Rasturi bent over him, kissed his throat, and stood up. With a few motions of her hands, she put her clothes on. As she let the shirt slide over her head and shoulders, Kalymel gained control of his confused thoughts once more. The long deceleration phase offered enough time to consider everything carefully and react properly. Kalymel, technical specialist, decided to take time to think things through.

  One day-cycle later, after Kalymel had worked things out in his mind, spoken with a hundred or more Lemcharoys, and suppressed his excitement, the loudspeakers crackled into life once more. The voice of the Immortal was heard. Every word spoke of utter certainty and the intention of reassuring the Lemcharoys.

  "The inertial absorbers have been raised and activated. In the meantime, the results of the remote survey have become sufficiently complete that each of us can observe the planetary system on the vidscreen and call up all the information that the Net has available. By the Keeper! The amount of information will increase from one day to the next, and soon we will have thoroughly surveyed the planet on which we will make our stopover landing. The Council and I have named the planet Mentack Nutai. It is the fifth planet of Ichest."

  Nutai's Destiny, Kalymel thought.

  In every quadrant, the vidscreens lit up and after a brief flash of interference showed a red shining star. Then, one after another, planets of varying sizes, planetary orbits, projections of the ecliptic, some moons, and an impressive asteroid belt. Kalymel nodded in satisfaction: So the remote scan was still operating reliably despite the data rot! The intervals at which the projected objects shifted colors due to incomplete data and interference grew longer; finally the images against the black background became stable and meaningful.

  Eleven planets circled Ichest, or "Stopover," as the Naahk had named the large sun. The orbits of the fourth, fifth, and sixth planets ran within a distance from the central star determined to be the ecosphere. The data reported that two planets, the fifth and sixth, possessed oxygen-rich atmospheres. Their compositions corresponded to the air that circulated within the ark down to negligible variations.

  Between the seventh and eighth planets, a dense asteroid belt could be made out whose outer reaches ranged well above and below the ecliptic. Mentack Nutai was headed along its orbit towards a point that lay on the OVIR's new course. Size and density were determined: the gravity was just over one old Lemurian unit. Three airless moons of differing sizes circled Mentack.

  The ship was no longer hiding itself. Now it had become defenseless.

  Kalymel and Rasturi observed the still incomplete depiction of the planetary system, then they left the Rectangular Oasis, walked past the carbon dioxide emitters and their pressure tanks, let the hatch slide to one side, and felt the familiar tickling of the grass under their bare soles as they went back to their cabins.

  For about five years, Kalymel had been afraid of looking ridiculous and being punished for his curiosity. So he had never spoken with anyone about it. At first, he had researched in the Net, though only after long intervals and using various roundabout paths of inquiry to obscure his purpose. However, the ark's computer network was unforthcoming as far as the secret was concerned. It was another secret of the OVIR, a taboo that no one dared touch. Neither the elders of the previous generation nor the Net or even the few written records could or would answer the question with even passing satisfaction: what was in the open storage compartment on the outermost deck?

  For five years, Kalymel was the only one who tried to make his way to that strange object. He was convinced that the thing in the storage compartment was not an integral part built into the ark. The difficulties in reaching the vicinity of the "mystery object" had been considerable. The next opportunity would beckon to him in a few hours.

  A flickering image formed on the vidscreen in Kalymel's cabin. The buzzer sounded shrilly. Kalymel pressed the answer button. A few moments later, Ascelin's head and shoulders took shape. He was a Kebroid and shuttle pilot from West-Blue Quadrant, about a thousand meters from Kalymel.

  Kalymel raised his hand in greeting. "Ascelin! Is everything ready? Nothing's wrong with your shuttle, I hope?"

  Ascelin returned the greeting with a smile. "Have you practiced the dry starts long and often enough?"

  Kalymel shrugged and at first looked silently at Ascelin's phosphorescing, soot-black striped skin. He knew Ascelin from practicing together in the shuttle simulator. His answer was brief.

  "I'm beginning the check-out procedure tomorrow. And you, Ascelin?"

  "Same here. We have four landing shuttles. I've already spoken with the other pilots. If we all hold our breath and keep our arms in, we can each take about 75 Lemcharoys down to the planet."

  "I know. So you're comfortable with the landing. That means about 300 Lemcharoys on the first flight. And the others?"

  "They'll wait on the Ship for the second flight and trust the Commander."

  "Very good. We still have more than 45 day-cycles. We'll manage it."

  Kalymel nodded. He also trusted the Naahk; the deceleration, course changes, landing approach and everything else would go smoothly. Before him, generations had trusted the man with the air of mystery about him. According to the traditions that had been passed down, he had been in middle age when the LEMCHA OVIR set out. Every two decades, the elders of the Council reported, he disappeared for a few days. He would then reappear, literally made young again, dynamic, filled with vigor and bursting with new ideas.

  The Star Seeker Atubur Nutai was sacrosanct; no one on board questioned his power and authority to command. No one! Just his sonorous voice and the certainty that he had guided the LEMCHA OVIR safely and undiscovered on the way through the stars ever since its departure gave trust and confidence.

  "We'll give the shuttles their first check before day-change tomorrow," Ascelin said. "Will you report to me, Tenoy? I'm speaking with the others. Remember to load weapons and the appropriate wilderness gear." Four irregular black and white stripes ran diagonally across Ascelin's face.

  Kalymel raised his hand. "Of course," he said, half jokingly and half quite seriously. "Let's trust the Commander—he truly deserves all our respect and admiration."

  "And our computer network-nodes!"

  "But not only the Net. Give your co-pilot my regards. Melis, isn't it?"

  "That's her name. Is your Rasturi doing well?"

  "As well as any of us."

  Rasturi had duties in the section of the quadrant in which the sick were housed. The Gebrest counted as another one of the strange conditions that made life on board more difficult and contributed to the hard-to-define feeling of uncertainty. Kalymel was anything but certain that the conditions of life outside of the Ship would end the suffering, but he fervently hoped so. He was beginning to half-believe it, despite his own conviction.

  He nodded to the Kebroid Mutie, cut the connection, and called up the floor plan of his quadrant on the screen. He made sure that, in spite of the necessary detours, he knew the way to the shuttle hangar and the boundary with East-Red perfectly. Twelve years before, the Naahk had had cabins, empty storage rooms, and corridors blocked off—there were no longer any inhabitants who needed these areas. That situation would once again help him get close to the storage room with the mysterious contents.

  3

  Futile Flight

  Kalymel made an effort to evaluate the procedures rationally and logically. For a long
time he had been filled with conflicting thoughts and feelings. As a ten-year-old, thirty years before he had seen the stars drifting past the Ship as it continued on its course. Ever since, three thoughts had occupied his mind. The first was: Who had had the Ship built and sent on its way? Only later did he ask himself the other two questions: What was the significance of the strange object in the main storage room in Quadrant Red-East, and why had no one been able to do anything about the Gebrest for decades? Now, as well as the questions in his mind, there was a fear for his own survival and the integrity of the steel biosphere that was the Ship.

  He downloaded the pilot procedure data from the Net onto a chip. The list was free of data rot. Kalymel stuck thick work gloves into his belt and glanced first at the chronometer and then at the air indicator. All displays showed Normal.

  The cabin door closed. Kalymel put his shoes on, stepped out onto the surface of the curved walk-way and entered the light brown corridor that led in the direction of the outer wall. Down-gravity, it had been called in his youth. The next hatch opened and closed with a smooth hum since Kalymel had lubricated all moving parts at regular intervals. After about fifty steps, he came into the room in which the protective suits were hung.

  The air had grown colder but was still perfectly breathable. Like every inhabitant of the ark, he knew that his life depended on thoroughness and care. He put the suit on, assured himself that there was a sufficient air supply, slipped back into the shoes, and pulled on the gloves.

  A new pressure hatch, a stretch of corridor, a stairway, past the central nuclear reactor, a steep ramp upwards, and finally the airlock to the shuttle hangar. All the seals were thickly greased. He threw the heavy switch and looked through the viewing slit. The lighting elements snapped on one after the other and flooded the shuttle with brightness; the yellow-blue veined wall surfaces cast a mysterious shimmer on the scene. The shuttle, which resembled three tubes of different diameters pressed together into an oval, still bore its now dulled original paint and looked unused.

  And in fact, like the other three shuttles, it never had been used. As the airlock's hatch opened, Kalymel's last doubts that the intended landing was sensible or an emergency measure—or both—disappeared. The shuttle had to take off; he had to fly it. Concern for the thousand inhabitants of the Ship and for the gigantic vessel itself was greater than all uncertainties.

  Kalymel switched on the suit's air supply and waited. The inner hatch slid to the side and the air from the lock dissipated in the cold hangar in a snowy whirl. He walked quickly across the thick, black flooring to the cockpit, pulled the ladder out, and grinned briefly. Nothing had changed since the last inspection, and every hinge had moved as smoothly as expected. He climbed five meters, opened the hatch, clambered into the cockpit, and suddenly realized that this simulated launch would be the last test before the final venture.

  In about forty days, the hangar doors would actually open, and he, Kalymel, would use all his skills to fly the craft, filled with inhabitants of the Ship, through space and turbulent atmosphere and land safely.

  He switched on the power supply and the heating for the air circulation system, shoved the data chip into the playback slit, and went through the launch procedures step by step on the touchscreen. He needed to look them up only three times. When he was finished, only three steps remained: open the hangar doors, feed power to the engines, and activate the steering jets. He verified that all taxiing motors, the ignition sequences, the engine steering, and the mechanisms that extended the support wings worked at a press of a button. The tanks were filled; the fuel supply would last for four flights before they had to be refilled in the Ship. He left the data chip in the playback unit and checked every technical detail in the cabin, even the wide belts. The straps were extremely old but did not rip; the buckles clicked reliably.

  "So ... my shuttle is in order," he said softly before he closed his helmet and exited through the hatch. One last check: Kalymel inspected the heavy clamps that held the landing skids securely. Their bearings also shone with the black grease that clung to his gloves.

  Satisfied, Kalymel left the hangar, descended two decks lower in the air-filled sector, and removed the helmet from his protective suit's neckring. He stowed the suit carefully, looked at the chronometer, and told himself that there was enough time to risk another attempt to make his way to the mysterious storage room. There would never be a better opportunity. He took a deep breath, then turned off into the wide, unlit corridor that led to the next quadrant.

  It was Kalymel's 27th attempt to uncover the secret. Up to now, he had always been stymied by massive metal walls. At first, he had attempted to get into the East-Red main storage room by the usual, "legal" ways. He had tried it from all directions, but all the corridors, elevator shafts, or maintenance passages were blocked by massive steel plates. Special tools would have been required to break through—and the enormous power consumption would have alerted the Councils, other Tenoy, the Network's monitoring systems, and the commander. Nor had Kalymel dared open an airlock leading out into space; activating the first switch would have set off the alarms.

  He passed through the last hatchway before the barricade, turned off into a narrow passageway, climbed a steep stairway, and found himself in a tool room. It was dead quiet. Cold air blew through the circulation system's holes and slits. Here ended the power supply. Cables that led further had been disconnected and capped. When Kalymel turned on his hand-held spotlight, he could see the entrance to an inspection tube in the rear wall. Six large screws the size of fists and dripping with lubrication secured a metal plate. At the other end of the tube that led from one quadrant to the other, unknown territory began for Kalymel.

  Without any difficulty, he unscrewed five massive, lubricated nuts that he had loosened on his last attempt, lifted the plate, and secured it in the open position with a hook. Up to this point, he could explain his attempt as an especially conscientious inspection. He felt his pulse accelerate. Using sticky-tape, he attached the spotlight under his right shoulder, a crowbar and a power saw to his chest, and crawled through the tube. Icy cold enveloped Kalymel, but he felt himself sweating when he came out of the tube in front of a hatch leading to a supply room. He knew what was inside: metal plates for repairing the outer hull along with the necessary tools.

  The hatch had been welded shut some years before and additionally secured with a strip of ferrometal. On the visit before last, Kalymel had applied aggressive bacteria to the adhesive holding the long plate, and since then it had eaten away the glue. With a little exertion of strength and being careful not to make any noise in the semi-darkness, Kalymel levered the plate loose, dragged it to the side, and leaned it carefully against the wall. Then he checked the thumb-thick welding seam from the ceiling to the floor and took the oil can from his hip.

  Behind the hatch was the lock through which the main storage room was entered. Kalymel was familiar with the inspection plans. He prepared the upper part of the seam with the oil and cut through the bulging sealant with the saw disc, which rotated slowly and was soon glowing hot. There was no noise, but a serious time problem was developing. Behind the sliced welding seam, the edges of which glowed and smoked, gaped the crevice between the two halves of the hatch.

  "No one could get in here within the forty days left," he murmured, and turned the saw off. The light beam from his spotlight showed him that he had cut through half the welding seam; to continue would be pure foolishness. He laid the oil can, saw, and crowbar on the floor against the wall and crawled slowly back through the tube. He screwed the metal plate back on as quickly and carefully as possible, and felt the tension drain away from him as he climbed down the steps. His fingers and knees began to tremble, and he was plagued by wild suppositions and conjectures.

  On his next visit, he would shine a light through the hatch's viewport into the storage room and see for the first time what was hidden inside. As he went away, it struck him that during the entire time he had not
thought of his own life or that of Rasturi, neither of the impending flight of the shuttle nor of the danger for the Ship. He suddenly felt dizzy and leaned against the wall, suppressing his trembling. Then he muttered a curse and went on slowly, as though nothing had happened.

  A white-green marbled hatch opened in front of him. At the same moment, yellow lights began to flash on and off. A heartbeat later, the audio alarm signal buzzed and droned. Kalymel gave a start, tore the suit off his body, and opened the hatch.

  "An alarm? By the Keeper! What's going on?"

  As he ran in the direction of the residential section, he thought of Rasturi, of a crack in the walls of the Ring-Ship, or of a mistake made by the Commander. But nothing came over the loudspeakers. When Kalymel approached the living area, he heard a confusion of voices, cries, and metallic rattling.

  "Loris is hurt!" someone exclaimed. "Blood everywhere!"

  Another voice shouted, "Where are the Tenoy? They're never around when you need them!"

  "Here I am!" Kalymel called and dashed through the grass to the rear of the living quarters. "What happened?"

  "Cada, Lumena, and Amias are gone!"

  Kalymel stopped as though he had run into a steel plate. The men and the woman were Muties and had been suffering for two months from Gebrest. And they were currently the most important neutrino para-technicians in this quadrant; the mutation and the sickness had increased their para-ability several times over. Loris came towards Kalymel, supported by Rasturi. The medic's head, shoulder, and upper arm were injured. The blood splatters on Rasturi's shirt were already drying.