Swallow the Sky: A Space Opera (2 page)

The inertial dampening
faded away leaving the cabin in free fall. Carson unbuckled his harness,
stretched, and squinted at the planet below. All he could see was blinding
white cloud. Perhaps things would be more interesting on the ride down.

Thirty minutes later a
stubby craft swam out of the glare. “Greetings!” the shuttle cried across the
ether “I will soon be docking with your vessel. Please be ready to disembark.”

“You might as well stick
around” Carson said to the buggy “there’s no point in returning all the way to
the ship.”

“Okay” said the little vessel
“and good news: I just checked and parking is free, so I’ll stay in this
orbit.”

The shuttle maneuvered
closer and extruded a docking tube over the buggy’s hatch, adding an inertial
field to complete the seal. Carson grabbed his bags and pushed off, swimming
through the connection into the shuttle’s cabin; it was empty – he was the first
passenger. He stowed his luggage, buckled in, and surveyed the featureless
interior: no viewports, but that would not be a problem, it promised to be a
quick trip down to the surface.

“Welcome aboard honored traveler”
said the shuttle “I am pleased to announce that this service is provided as a
courtesy by the People’s Republic of Mita. We have one more stop before our
descent to Kaimana.”

Carson writhed in his
harness. The air was hotter than hell and worse, the humidity totally
saturated; within thirty seconds sweat was soaking through his arrival suit.

“Hey – what’s wrong with
the atmospherics?”

“This vessel’s
environment is set to match Kaimana’s. One hopes that you will soon become
accustomed to our planet’s conditions.”

Damn! He should have read
the welcome package.

He sweated his way to the
next pick-up.
Oh God, would it be like this for the whole trip?

Eventually the vessel
shuddered and docked. As the outer hatch dilated an oversized container shot
through the air and slammed into the wall by his head.

“What the…”

His voice faded as a slim
figure pushed through the docking tube.

“Oh God, sorry – did I
hit you?”

“No, no” Carson smiled.
The woman was the first human being he had encountered in weeks.

Still muttering apologies
she swam after her case, gracefully negotiating the microgravity. He pushed out
of his seat and helped wrestle her belongings into a storage harness. By now a
dozen more people had entered the craft and were busy stowing luggage.

“You wouldn’t believe it”
she said “but our idiot transit company charges by the number of baggage items
rather than their mass, so people cram their entire life into a single giant
sack.”

“You’re so sweet to help”
she added buckling herself into the seat opposite his.

She was one of those
lucky people whose faces naturally relax into a smile that can sooth babies,
disarm the wary, and enchant the lonely space traveler. Like the other
passengers filling the cabin she wore a colorful skintight cat suit – a
practical garment if one chose to look at it that way. Carson sat up
straighter.

Solitude had not improved
his conversational skills. Damn! What kind of smooth line should he conjure up
when faced with an attractive woman? He was still thinking when she leaned
forward, large almond eyes gazing into his face.

“Why don’t you take all
your clothes off?” she whispered.

He stared, and then
yelped in terror as he realized that she was naked; the cat suit was some kind
of body paint. He scanned the cabin. Good God they were all naked! Everybody
was sporting nothing but a bright layer of color. Any doubts were obliterated
by two male passengers floating by his head on their way to the back of the
craft.

“Doesn’t anybody wear
clothes?” he croaked.

“Oh, a lot of the
tourists do. They don’t have birthday suits and they’re shy about just being
nude.”

No kidding
. “But
all the natives…” he asked staring her fixedly in the face.

“Everyone” she replied.
“Oh, occasionally there’s a craze – all the kids began wearing cloaks a few
years ago – but it really isn’t practical. It started with the first settlers –
with Kaimana’s atmosphere it simply made sense – and by the time they had the
resources for large-scale air conditioning they had all gotten, well, used to
it.”

The woman smiled at him
as she brushed her short black hair from her forehead. He could imagine how
much pleasure the locals got from visitors’ discomfort.

“But you’ll be alright,
you’ve already got a suit.”

He frowned before
understanding what she meant.

“You mean this?” He waved
the backs of his hands. As opposed to everyone else’s golden hue his skin was a
deep brown.

“That’s the result of
accelerated melanogenesis. My last planet-fall was Procyon c; the local sun
pumps out freakishly high levels of UV light so you’d fry if you didn’t boost
your skin’s defenses.”

“I did wonder – I’d
never seen a birthday suit cover anyone’s face before. You could start a new
fashion.”

She grinned at him.

“Can you imagine how it
must have been on Old Earth when people were naturally different colors? How
wonderful!”

“What color would you
have been?” he asked, finally getting into the game.

“Oh, I’d be a scarlet
woman!”

They laughed and lapsed
into an agreeable silence.

The woman’s eyes
softened. “It’s so sad; all the survivors had to interbreed just to maintain
the gene pool. We lost so much of our past on Earth.”

She could not have known
it, but she had touched Carson’s soul.

Oh, what the hell.

“My name’s Carson” he
said

“Aiyana, of clan Aniko”
she replied, and to his delight held up her right hand, palm forward. He copied
her gesture and they touched lightly. His skin tingled as they exchanged cards.
In the tradition of Commonwealth societies they both paused, eyes half closed,
and examined each other’s data.

Much of the information
that scrolled across his retinas was incomprehensible, a parade of unknown
places, institutions, and cultural mores. He did gather that Aiyana was a
mining engineer, living and working on a large asteroid named Eugenia. There
was no mention of personal ties, unsurprising in a business card. He wondered
if she was making any more sense of him.

“Oh my God you’re a
mailman!” she cried, shouting so loud other passengers turned round to stare.

“It had to be something
glamorous with that birthday suit. I knew you weren’t just another wretched
tourist!

Aiyana leaned forward and
dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Anyhow, no one with any
sense comes this time of year – the coral beds are closed for the Cetacean
mating season.”

Her eyes brightened “Are
you delivering the mail right now?”

He nodded, smiling.

She clapped her hands.
“Do you have the final episode of Exodus? Everyone’s dying to see it.”

“I’m sorry, Exodus?”

“Oh, you know, the New
Earth drama about the first colonies.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know;
I never have any idea what I’m carrying.”

She titled her head and
contemplated him, eyes slit with mock cunning. “Maybe I should steal it from
you and corner the market.”

“Good luck with the
decryption” he laughed.

At that moment the
shuttle, which had been working in silence, decided to announce the final
descent to Kaimana.

“I love this part” Aiyana
said. “Of course, it’s really just for the tourists.”

The shuttle spoke up
again. “To enhance your arrival this vessel will now use state-of-the-art
sensoria to render the vertical portion of our descent free of atmospheric
interference. What you will see is not an artificial creation but the actual
view as it would be perceived through clear air.

“Honored passengers”
declared the craft, its voice rising to a shout as music filled the cabin
“welcome to Kaimana!”

With its last words the
walls of the shuttle vanished and Carson found himself hovering in space above
an azure sea. Below his feet was the ragged outline of the planet’s sole
landmass, a volcanic island nestling a silvery lake in its crater. His stomach told
him that they were dropping rapidly.

Aiyana was suspended
besides him, her smiling face illuminated by the planet below. Further away he
could see the other passengers and their luggage, all apparently floating in
the void.

“Pretty impressive” he
admitted, reaching around to assure himself that the shuttle still existed.

He tried to keep the
conversation going.

“Does Kaimana have
hotels, lodging houses, you know – places where travelers pay to stay?”

“Well of course. They are
lots of hotels.”

“That’s good; you’d be
surprised how many planets don’t have paid accommodation.”

She pulled a face, which
made Carson realize that she had not spent much time out of the Mita system. He
plunged on, unsure whether she considered him a seasoned traveler or a fool.

“So do you have any
recommendations for somewhere to stay?”

“The clan’s putting me
into its suite at the Caldera View. Check it out, it’s expensive but I’m sure
the rates are better when the tourists aren’t around.”

It was time to get
plugged in. Mercifully, the local net used standard Commonwealth communications
protocols. While the tiny transponder embedded in his inner ear had a limited
range the shuttle provided an excellent relay to the surface and he was soon
talking to the hotel. Aiyana was right, the rates were uncharacteristically
low, he could stay for a week while he found something long-term.

“Thanks, all booked” he
said and then, intoxicated by imminent planet fall and his first human contact
in weeks, he continued “Would you like to meet for a drink this evening?
…assuming you’re not busy.”

“That would be lovely, I’ve
no events until tomorrow. Wow, my first evening on Kaimana and I’m drinking
with a mailman! Wait till the crew hears about this! Where shall we meet?”

My room!
No, that
wouldn’t do. He got back to the hotel’s concierge.

“Yes honored guest” said
a voice from within his cochlea “we have a variety of delightful meeting
places. May I ask is the purpose of your meeting: business, social, festive, or
romantic?”

Carson glanced at Aiyana.

“Romantic” he muttered.

“Then I would recommend
the Fire Lounge, featuring an inviting selection of…”

He ignored the sales
chatter. “The hotel says it has a bar called the Fire Lounge. Let’s meet there
at…” he squinted while he worked out the local time system “…seven”.

Beneath his feet,
Kaimana’s outline continued to grow. Details began to appear within the extinct
volcano: concentric circles and intersecting radii spread from the central lake
to the rim of the crater and the land differentiated into patterns of gray,
green and brown. The flanks appeared undeveloped but even so it was to the
outer slopes that the shuttle headed. As the landmass swelled beneath them the
music in the cabin subsided and the walls returned to an opaque grey.

“Do you hear that?” he
asked.

The silence had given way
to a distant rapid drumbeat.

“Don’t worry, that’s just
the rain.”

Oh great, the
off-tourist season.

Ten minutes later they
had landed.

Carson and the other passengers emerged into a cavernous
hanger hewn from the side of the volcano. The ground rumbled as a pair of giant
doors closed on a seemingly solid wall of water. Little wonder that they heard
the rain during the descent.

The shuttle was right
about the conditions, it was just as hot and humid as it had been inside the
cabin, but the atmosphere carried the tang of the planet’s vast ocean, and he
took a deep breath of the real, unprocessed air.

“Honored extrasolar
visitor” said a voice. Carson glanced up and saw a small red sphere hovering
above him. “Please follow me for screening and integration.”

“Wait one moment” he told
it.

He looked round for
Aiyana who was wrestling with her giant bag. She had strapped on a lift belt
but it still had plenty of inertia.

“I have to go to Integration”
he shouted to her, tipping his head at the red ball by way of explanation.
“Seven o’clock in the Fire Lounge.”

She gave him a wave and
returned to maneuvering her belongings. Carson picked up his own luggage and
trotted after the sphere. There were about a dozen spacecraft service points on
the vast floor, few showing any sign of activity. Despite the rain he had
probably lucked out – he could imagine the chaos at the height of the tourist
season.

He glanced over his
shoulder at the ground crew clustered around the shuttle. Aiyana was right; the
only thing anyone was wearing was body paint. How long would it take him to get
used to this?

The sphere led him
through a door into the integration hall which, like the hanger, was carved
into of the flanks of the volcano although this room held a more finished
quality: the floor was carpeted and the glare of the landing area was replaced
by soft lighting. The walls were covered with decorative murals but it was the
display in the center that brought him to a halt. Mounted on a black stone
obelisk was a huge piece of diamond coral.

The organism was as
translucent as real diamond, and artful spotlights had been placed to create
clusters of prismatic color that slid and merged as the viewer moved. At its
heart refracted light burned with the intensity of a white dwarf star. The
coral was shaped in the form of a flexing shark but he knew that this was no
human sculpture; in some unfathomable way the organism mimicked the surrounding
sea creatures. What conceivable purpose could that serve in the abyssal
darkness? And the mystery was deepening: new coral figures were emerging on the
ocean floor that had an unnerving resemblance to the tourists’ submarines.

He dragged himself away
from the exquisite display to the integration area. The reception stations were
empty except for one lonely individual sitting at an instrument panel. Clearly
extrasolar business was slow and he appeared pleased to see a new visitor.
Carson placed his right hand in the green circle on the top of the identification
pod and waited while the machine sucked out his data.

The official brightened.

“Ah, the mailman! Welcome
honored guest Carson. Do you by chance have the last episode of Exodus?”

“You’re the second person
to ask me that. Sorry, I have no idea.”

“My mate won’t give me
any peace until she’s seen it”

In a brisker tone he
asked “How long do you plan to be visiting the Mita People’s Republic?”

“Twenty to thirty days I
imagine. I buy and sell artifacts and I’m hoping to do some business while I’m
here.”

The bureaucrat sat up. “I
must advise you that the export of diamond coral is strictly controlled.”

“Not my field – I mainly
deal in ancient technology.”

“Hmm… there’s a market
for that?”

“You’d be amazed”

The official became
businesslike again “You are authorized to reside in the People’s Republic for
thirty days. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks. Do you have any
idea how long it’s going to keep raining? It’s weird – I can’t find any weather
information on the net.”

“Who knows? Maybe one,
two million years.”

Carson began to laugh
politely then realized that he had simply been told the truth. Well, he should
have guessed. Sighing, he shouldered his bags and followed the ball, which had
turned green, to the exit.

“Hey” he yelled at the
sphere as they hurried down a corridor “how do people stay dry round here?”

“Pardon me honored
visitor that question is beyond my functionality.”

They emerged into a huge
transportation area. This too had been hollowed out from the interior of the
mountain. In the far wall was a series of tunnels. A small vehicle shot out of
an opening and circled over Carson’s head.

“No thanks” he yelled at
the taxi and continued to follow his guide.

Eventually it led him to
a parked bus. “This vehicle will take you to your hotel; I wish you a pleasant
visit” the ball said and promptly vanished.

“Your destination honored
passenger?” the bus asked as he clambered aboard.

“Caldera View Hotel”

“Third stop, please be
seated.”

While he waited for the
bus to get moving Carson got onto the net and searched for a valet – frustrated
by his lack of local knowledge he had decided to get some quality help. The
Mitans were used to dealing with ignorant visitors and he had no trouble
finding an agency. A cool contralto voice sounded in his ear.

“Greetings, how may I be
of service?”

He immediately warmed to
the valet system: no self-aggrandizing introduction, just straight down to
business.

“I’ve just arrived from
out-of-system” he sub-vocalized “I am going to need lots of information about
places, local customs, business practices, and, um, personal interactions.”

“That is all within my
scope. Shall I begin with a short overview of the People’s Republic?”

As the valet briefed him
more passengers got on the bus. Finally it rose from the ground and entered one
of the tunnels. A short while later they emerged into sunshine.

What the hell, where
was the rain?
“Hey valet, is this an illusion?”

“No, you are now inside
Kaimana’s crater. The entire area is covered by a weather shield. The light is
synthetic, designed to emulate Mita’s natural radiation.”

The bus gained height,
revealing the crater wall. Around him terraces of densely packed buildings
stretched down the caldera’s slopes to the meadows and forests that covered the
floor of the extinct volcano. In the distance, at the center of the parkland,
was the lake he had seen from space. Beyond that, some twenty kilometers away,
the crater resumed its upward climb. The far side was less developed and Carson
could make out stretches of cultivated land.

“The shield was built 247
standard years ago. It took five years to construct at a cost of thirteen
billion Ecus, half of this sum coming from a grant supplied by the New Earth
Commonwealth.”

He squinted into the sky
as they sped along the airway. The shield was a convincing blue while near its
zenith was a blinding patch of white light. Not quite a sun, but a pretty good
imitation.

The bus deposited him on
a wide boulevard that gently curved away on either side. About sixty meters
below he could see another terrace carved into the crater wall, then another –
fifty-two in all according to the valet – encircling the caldera from the
central parkland to the rim. Each was covered with a riot of buildings though
few structures reached higher than the next level. Most had a swath of open
space by the edge; some were busy plazas, others elaborate gardens. As he
peered down he could even see one that sported a canal dotted with tiny boats.

The Caldera View Hotel
was a squat building surrounded by lush grounds. The building and its gardens
appeared to be built on a series of tiers that echoed the carved shape of the
crater. Originally, the valet explained, this area has been used for
cultivation until population growth pushed out the farms. Now agriculture was
confined to the north slopes, although most food was synthesized or harvested
from the sea.

The lobby of the hotel
was appropriately lavish and he paused to admire the elaborate displays of
tropical flowers. Stepping up to the reception counter he placed his hand on one
of the green circles etched into the marble surface.

“Greeting honored guest
Carson” said the counter “we have you booked for a standard room for a week.”

“That’s correct”

It was time to start
making some contacts. He caught the gaze of a human supervisor.

“Excuse me, er…”

“Honored staff member”
his valet whispered.

“…honored staff member, I
wish to see the hotel manager.”

“Perhaps I can help you
honored guest” the woman answered.

“Thank you, no, I am here
on government business. I am a Commonwealth mail carrier.”

This announcement had the
desired effect and he was ushered into the manager’s office. The bureaucrat was
delighted to be of service to his distinguished guest. Why yes, he knew several
members of the business community who collected antiques. In fact the local
historical society was scheduled to meet next week in this very hotel! Perhaps
he could attend? The Caldera View was honored to be hosting a mailman, a
complementary upgrade was in order.

Feeling very pleased with
himself, Carson left the manager’s office and sauntered up to his luxury suite.

Three hours later,
showered, naked, and intensely self-conscious, he walked into the Fire Lounge.
The valet system had called in its higher functions to reassure him that he
would blend in.

“Your skin pigmentation
will be taken as conservative business dress” it told him.

“Unfortunately a real
birthday suit, which is a layer of symbiotic bacteria living in the epidermis,
takes several weeks to cultivate.”

“The fact that the
coloring covers your entire body is will be considered unusual but it is
nothing offensive – it is not like showing your bare limbs on Upsilon g.”

“Thanks for the tip” he
muttered. “How do the locals keep their hands and faces clear?”

“The bacteria have been
modified to respond to low level UV light and other stimuli – they can be made
to selectively change color or disappear completely. Most dwellings have
facilities to change a suit’s appearance in a matter of minutes.”

By the time he found a
table he had decided that the valet was right. The other patrons paid him only
the slightest attention as he sat down and opened the menu.

“Greetings honored guest”
said the menu “welcome to the Fire Lounge.”

Carson ordered a glass of
local wine – the cost of the imported stuff was outrageous – and surveyed the
room. The bar’s huge windows opened onto a stunning panorama of the crater.
Overhead, the shield was impersonating an evening sky, its reflection
transforming the central lake into a gigantic puddle of mercury. Between the
lake and the darkening sky the slopes blazed with the light of countless
buildings. He could see the paths of the aerial ways clear round the caldera,
each illuminated by the streaming lights of a thousand vehicles.

One wall of the bar was
covered with a giant mural inspired by the famous image of the opening of the
Covenant Convention. In the center was Adhiambo Cissokho, by then an old woman
but still very much in charge. Surrounding her were the hundred and nine delegates,
over ten percent of the survivors of Old Earth. Even now, viewed across the
immense distance of time, few people failed to be moved by the raw courage of
those first colonists. Marooned on an alien world with few resources and the
very survival of the human race in doubt, they found it within themselves to
create the code of ethics that had served humanity for eight thousand years.

Inspecting the picture
more carefully he saw that its creator had added some low-key animation.
Delegates greeted each other, shook hands, and took their chairs. One in
particular caught his eye. With a chuckle he realized that it was himself,
dressed in appropriate colonial costume. Gazing round the room he saw that
other patrons had been captured: the red-haired woman standing by the window
admiring the view was, in the mural, talking to Cissokho’s aide, and the two
men sitting at the bar were setting up delegates’ tables. Another person
appeared in the midst of the historic figures. Good God it was Aiyana! He
turned and there she was, waving from the entrance.

He stood up to greet her
as she strode in.

“Hey, you did it!” she
cried looking him up and down. Beneath his pigmentation Carson blushed.

“What do you think of
my
outfit?” she asked, twirling in front of him.

Aiyana had undergone a
remarkable transformation. The patterned body paint had been replaced by a
layer of sparkling crimson. Across the front were a series of narrow slashes
that gave the illusion of material sliced with a sharp blade, the diagonal
slits revealing glimpses of honey-colored stomach and breasts.

Carson promptly sat down.

“My very own scarlet
woman outfit” she said folding herself into a chair.

She opened the menu.
“Greetings honored guest, welcome to the Fire Lounge.”

“Shut up” she said
cheerfully, then to Carson “Hey, where’s the final episode of Exodus? I’ve been
checking all afternoon.”

“I’m not delivering the
mail until tomorrow. I’m already having enough excitement for one day.”

Aiyana grinned and
ordered a drink.

“I wish I was going to
have an exciting day – tomorrow we start the conference.”

“It must be something
special to bring you all this way.”

“Well I suppose it is
sort of interesting. We’re planning for the arrival of a slow boat from New
Earth – it’s towing Mita’s first black hole foundry. It will be anchored in
orbit around my home asteroid, Eugenia. Right now it’s decelerating through the
Oort cloud.”