Marina Lostetter – Noumenon Infinity (страница 22)

“You know what’s important?” she asked firmly.

“What?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

She kissed the top of his head. “You, me, and our girls.”

“Nice subject change.” He laughed. “Smooth.”

OCTOBER 25, 122 RELAUNCH 5279 CE

Anticipation made Caznal’s head light. Today she’d lay out the Nataré team’s final conclusions about the alien history of the planemo, and her plan for which X on the map to travel to next.

There was a gravity well closer than her intended destination, but she wanted to journey to where two X’s were less than three light-years apart. It would give them the biggest bang for their buck, to employ an old saying. As a personal bonus, they would still arrive before her retirement, allowing her to play the greatest part in Nataré research for the maximum amount of time.

Dossiers had already been distributed. She’d take final questions, and then it would be onward.

Navy-colored uniforms shuffled in—all of the ship’s captains and their seconds in command—followed by at least one uniform of each other color. Many handshakes and smiles propagated throughout the gathering. There was a buzz in the air, and a buzz in their bellies as copious amounts of coffee, tea, and yerba maté were passed around the long marble table.

“Are we ready to begin?” asked First Officer Joanna Straifer. She was a direct descendant—the biological granddaughter—of a Reginald Straifer clone and a Nika Marov clone, and shades of both of them could be seen in her face and hair. Everyone aboard knew those lines well. There was a special hall on Aesop wallpapered with portraits of the clones who’d had a great impact on the convoy, and Joanna was the product of not two, but three. Her biological mother, Esperanza, had spearheaded the initiative that saved I.C.C. from Earth’s interference. “Caznal,” she continued, “you have the floor.”

Screens took up each wall, but Caz chose to use the holographic projector in the center of the table for diagram viewing. She brought up a model of the planemo, then zoomed in on Crater Sixty-four.

“First off, I’d like to say how great it’s been working with everyone on this project these past few years. We’ve been able to learn so much, it’s—it’s been exciting.” A small pang of guilt hit her. Dr. Baraka sprang to mind, his face flush with joy. Now, he was as he’d been when they’d first arrived: dreaming. Lending his processing power to the Nest, to the department he’d cared so much for. And yet, he had no idea what lay kilometers below his sleeping form. She shook his ghost from her mind, then continued.

“These are the layers of excavation.” She gestured at the changing hologram. It displayed a cross-section of the crater, with a flag indicating where each item of interest had been found over a fifty-six-square-kilometer area. “The top layer was explored mainly in months one through three, the next in four through seven, the third in seven through sixteen, and so on.

“The third layer is where we first found definitive evidence of the domed structures. And it was the fifth layer where we uncovered the three-mile-long metal scaffolding.” The image shifted at her command, displaying only the scaffolding in its unexcavated form. It was a series of long crushed beams—more log-shaped than steel girder–shaped—tangled and twisted, but clearly once the skeleton of a structure. “At first we believed it represented a horizontal building, but we now conclude …”

With a few artful flicks of her fingers, she repositioned the holographic pieces. Like the fossilized bones of a dinosaur rising from a tar pit and finding new life, the digitized framework pushed itself up, hammering out its own kinks and mending its breaks. It sat up tall, its narrow, topmost point jutting away from the planet’s surface.

“It was a single vertical tower,” she said. “Likely the foundation point of a space elevator. Models indicate that it’s likely many of the domed buildings were actually attached to the elevator—as temporary living quarters, workstations, or lift pods, we don’t know. What the elevator could have been reaching toward is also a mystery.

“But this much is clear. Crater Sixty-four was excavated by the Nataré—giving it its distinctive terraced rim—and used as a staging ground much like the Moon was utilized during the creation of the P.U.M.s. Also clear is that the settlement was quickly, yet thoroughly, dismantled. Much of what would have been required to run such a station is missing, indicating they either took it with them out of necessity or a sense of responsibility.

“The remains of the space elevator and the supercycler towers, however, were left behind. It seems they were toppled and buried by subsequent space collisions, which suggests that once the site was abandoned, the Nataré never returned.”

She scanned her notes quickly. “Oh, and one geological item of note. The thickness and density of the secondary ice layer, meaning the layer beneath the debris layers, is of an unusual uniformity across the entire planemo. A few of our geologists have suggested this could have been caused by the rapid freezing of a once gaseous atmosphere, indicating the planemo did not coalesce here. It either originated in a distant star system and was thrown out of orbit, or it once wandered with a much higher velocity and passed through the radiation of—but was not caught by—a star which superheated its ice, forming an atmosphere which rapidly cooled again once it had escaped the star’s influence.

“This is relevant to our Nataré research, since the aliens chose to bury the bases of all of the remaining structures below this ice layer. Perhaps they felt it was too unstable a foundation, so they cut through to the stone beneath. We’re presently unsure, but it gives us one more data point on Nataré thought process and construction habits. All of the information and samples we’ve gathered have given us plenty of work to sustain us to our next destination.”

Caz shuffled through her folders, finding the one with the maps. “Which brings me to the future. What are our next steps? Which Nataré location should we travel to? Which one gives us the best chance at the most data? After consulting our gravitational surveys and—”

“I’m sorry,” Captain Nwosu, Joanna’s cycle partner, interrupted. Their two clone lines were staggered in growth, so that the two of them would be each other’s master and apprentice clone after clone. Much like Caznal and Ivan. “I’m going to have to stop you for a moment,” he said.

Caz mentally stumbled—she’d been on a roll and had just missed a stair. “Oh, um, why?”

“We aren’t here to discuss a destination change,” he said frankly—clearly confused by Caznal’s confusion. “We’re here for a summary conclusion to this portion of the mission, to be sure it’s time to move on.”

Several brows around the room were furrowed, many mouths drawn tight. “What destination change? I wasn’t aware a destination had been chosen.” She of all people would know which X they’d picked.

The captain exchanged glances with the two department heads nearest his chair. “You’re suggesting we travel to someplace other than LQ Pyx, are you not?” He said are you not, but it sounded like did you have a stroke?

“LQ—you think it’s time to go back to the Web? Now?” Never mind not being on the same page, they were in completely different books. “Why would we abandon the study of the Nataré? We’ve barely scratched the surface of our available research, we have a map with seven other independent locations to explore, and we haven’t yet found anything relating to the construction of the Web.”

“Exactly,” the captain said, as though Caznal were making his point. “Our investigation of the Nest has always been directly tied to our priority: the Web. Without any evidence that a further exploration of Nataré worlds will lead to information regarding the Dyson Sphere, we can’t afford to continue on this tangent.

“Our intellectual resources only stretch so far. We could spend infinite lifetimes following these breadcrumbs, hoping for more than scraps, or we can focus on the ultimate point of our mission: completing the Web and harvesting its energy. This is a real, solid goal, versus a vague promise of a possible treasure trove.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did they … could they not see? How could these people not understand?

Atlanteans. They’re here.

We’re in the Night Land and I’m getting messages from the Lesser Redoubt.

And just as with the wanderer, no one else cares.

Her abdominal muscles tightened, and she fought to keep herself upright. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut, kicked in the face.

There’s nothing quite like being told everything you’ve ever worked for is a waste.

And still, she wouldn’t accept it.

Not after we went at this so hard. Not after my team—not after the professor—

“You’re telling me a dormant, incomplete megastructure beats out alien settlements—however temporary—for importance? There could be living, breathing Nataré out there, but discovering whether or not that’s true, that’s just a tangent?” Her gaze flickered around the room, looking for help, for a sympathetic face. “That’s unreasonable, isn’t it? That doesn’t make any logical sense.”