Chapter 7
Carl and Pat had just relaxed after a 'tiring' game of darts. Yes George had made available to them an exact copy of a dartboard on the black wall. The darts, it would appear, were simple to produce, it took only a few minutes of to-ing and fro-ing with various weights and sizes of dart to arrive at their likings. So they spent a few hours hammering each other at 301.
“George,” called Carl,” why did the Yil leave this area of space?”
“I have no reasons why in my records Carl,” was George’s reply,” but you must realise that the Yil had been travelling the space routes for many millions of years. Their aim was to find the end of space. There were many who speculated that space continued 'out' and never ended and others with the encapsulated theory. Neither proved their case up to the time they left this and all of the other Junctions I can contact. The Yil were spread very thinly in space, as you can well imagine, they had never colonised planets, just constructed Junctions. I can only surmise they gave up looking and went home.”
“Didn't they give you a reason why they were leaving?” Asked Pat.
“No, why should they. I am purely an electro-mechanical device to service the Junctions. They gave me no reason. Just instructed me to shut-down and stay on standby and continue to monitor the beacon and send periodical contacts towards Yil.”
“You say Junction in the plural,” Carl commented,” does that mean you are on all Junctions?”
“That is correct Carl, I maintain continuity with pulses of information any time I have any, as when you arrived.” George replied.
“That raises one other point George,” Carl began,” why are you looking after us so well?”
“The Yil owe you a great debt, both of you. If it had not been for you returning the ship to the Junction the crew would have been lost forever, plus the Navigating Module is an advance in technology.” Explained George.
“But that was an accident, we didn't intend to come here, you know that.” Said Pat.
“Be that as it may, you are here, and that is all that counts, also what was I supposed to do with the ship? It cannot travel by itself or under my command, you could say that is one of its weaknesses.” George answered.
“I call that safety myself,” said Pat,” that means it can't bugger off without you.”
“How far is Yil from here George?” Carl enquired.
“Too far to even imagine. Place a 'one' in your mind and then follow it with many thousands of zero's and you are beginning to approach the Yil domain. I am talking in light years. That sort of distance is immeasurable. Even at the speed our ships travel it would take many thousands of years to travel back to Yil.”
“We're not likely to meet one then?” asked Pat.
“I doubt it very much.” George confirmed.” I have a minor task for you Gentlemen.”
“What's that?”
“Could you check out the ship and see that it meets your instructions?” Asked George.
“Before we do George,” said Carl, hesitatingly,” any chance you could do something about my clothing, I don't know about you Pat, I'm fed up with overalls.”
“You're right there. How about it George?” Agreed Pat.
“That presents no problems at all. Please describe your preferences.”
“I fancy some ordinary trousers, about the same fit as these overalls, with a belt, a short sleeved shirt with a collar and a bush jacket. Not too long but a good fit around the waist.” Carl requested.
“Same for me, in blackish-blue.” Said Pat.
“Same colour for me,” Carl agreed,” and shoes to match, same design as these.” Looking down at the ones he had on.
“They will be ready for you when you return.”
“Great, let's have a look at the ship Pat,” said Carl, beginning to walk towards the corridor,” I've been looking forward to this for a month.”
They hurried to the hanger and there was the ship. It was the first time they had seen it complete, surprisingly enough, and it was really impressive. Shaped just like a horseshoe, with the points of the shoe as the cockpit and observation lounge. It was cylindrical but flattened on the top and bottom and sat on four skids, which surprised Carl a little, he had expected it to be in the hover but then remembered it could be either way, the skids were emergency landing gear only, all part of the memory jog from the 'instruction'.
The windscreens were material, not simply force shields. Could have been a problem if the force shield had come down, without screens.
The ship possessed no weaponry. It was not a characteristic of the Yil. They relied on diplomacy and shields and a powerful power plant. The ship could be used as a battering ram with devastating effect.
The ramp was down and it was comforting that it didn't make that tinny noise that ramps usually make. It was solidly quiet.
Carl slapped the hull with his fist and it made no noise at all. Totally solid and resilient. It was so smooth, with a dull grey metallic lustre.
“Hey Carl, get in here,” called Pat,” which chair do you want? I fancy the right one.”
“Great, I fancy the left one, and what's happened to the ones on the ceiling George?”
“I didn't think you would need those, there are only the two of you, so the ship has been re-configured with all panels in front of you.”
He was right. All the controls, or dials, that were up there before were gone. They were on the visual display screen whenever they needed them. It was all coming to mind now.
Carl sat down, as Pat had, and the arms of the seat moved until he indicated with the control that he was happy with the position for the moment. It could be refined later. The backrest felt like a sack of rats as it re-contoured until he was happy. The seat had already worked to a comfy feel. The leg restraints were like silk bows at his calves, all was meshing together just fine.
“Bloody hell Carl,” Pat looked over to see how he was getting on,” I wish my car seats were like this.”
“You'd be a bloody menace,” Carl replied,” you'd be asleep in a mile.”
Pat laughed.” Reckon you're right there.”
Carl selected Nav standby and Pat engaged the drive units. The display on the windscreens and the forward consoles immediately gave them readouts in power available. The Nav lattice went like scrambled eggs as Carl zoomed back to select all the previous flight paths carried out by the Yil whilst they had been in this area.
“Look at that lot Pat,” Said Carl, amazed,” they've been everywhere.”
Hundred of points of light appeared as Pat carried out distance checks on some points he wanted to know.
“They may have been everywhere but look at the distances they haven't been,” he said,” that one there, for instance.”
Two points of light, barely three millimetres apart were highlighted.
“I don't want to believe that Pat,” said Carl in a disheartened voice,” but I know it's true.”
The two points of light, so close together, were, in actual fact, over 750,000 light years apart, 214,285 Parsecs as near as damn-it.
“They could only cover so far, Carl, in so much time, perhaps you can appreciate the problems of universal exploration. It is never ending.” Came the voice of George.
“I've only just realised something, no matter where we stand, it sounds as if you are stood right beside us. Where 'are' you speaking from George?” Carl asked.
“From the receiver implants in you inner ears Carl.” Answered George.
“You're in there are you. I never thought of it,” said Pat,” what if we are miles away from the ship though?”
“I will speak to you wherever you are, these transmissions are not only shielded but cannot be received by anyone other than you. I do that selectively. It is totally private, for your ears only. If you are both separated from each other. I can speak to you individually or both together in two separate conversations. You can also talk to each other through me.” Informed George.
“Ruddy marvell
ous,” said Pat,” how do we talk to you when we are away from the ship? Do we just think it, or what?”
“I'm afraid you have to speak, as quiet as you like but I can only hear your speech. I cannot utilise your waves. I would never know what you were talking, or thinking, directly about. I explained the problems before.” George sounded sorry about it, but it wasn't his fault, it was their uncontrolled mental rantings.
Whilst George had been speaking Carl had taken the ship on a 'Standby' flight. That is where they fly through space, at full hyperdrive speed but don't go anywhere. It was normal for Carl to carry out this procedure and Pat did some correcting for him. The engines developed full power and the 'flight' was a complete success. No, they hadn't moved or gone anywhere, yet they did it at full power. Answer that one. Carl had been thinking over the whole set of contradictions for weeks. It requires a different approach of thought to accept it.
Pat shut the ship down a mere split second before Carl was going to, their instructions were on the ball. They knew they had completed the shakedown successfully. There was no running down of turbines or generators or whines and clicks, just nothing. The lights went dim on the consoles. That was all. Really very comforting and confidence building.
“Gentlemen,” announced George,” your weapons!”
Both Carl and Pat nearly fell over and were in hysterics for a couple of minutes. Carl nearly 'peed' his pants.
The mice had their 'weapons'. Their rebuilt parangs, all shiny, new metal with silvery-gold handles and elaborate sheaths to fit them in.
“I thought they looked pretty good myself.” Said a bemused George. That set them off again. Christ, what a laugh and George was so serious about it all.
“These aren't weapons George. We use them to cut wood and clear paths in the jungle.” Carl explained.
“Oh,” came the dejected reply,” you don't want them?”
“Yes we do, they are a great improvement. It was just your voice George, and the presentation by the mice, it was just too much.” Carl replied.
“Thanks a lot George, you're a scholar and a gentleman.” Congratulated Pat.
“My pleasure I'm sure.” Was there just the hint of sarcasm in George’s voice?
Their new clothes were another thing entirely. They fitted really well, were slightly thick but as smooth as silk. A cross between silk and leather.
“Bloody hell Carl, these feel like a second skin to me,” Pat paraded himself around the dome, stretching and bending,” these will do perfectly George. Just these or some spares?”
“You have spares of all your clothing. Will you want your overalls as well?” Enquired a more satisfied George.
“Not for me George, or Carl,” said Pat, as he saw Carl shaking his head,” I think we'll settle for the leather look.”
There was no doubt about it, it was comfortable.
“They won't wear out for quite a while,” George added,” you will have plenty of spares because they can only be made here, or at other Junctions.”
The passing of time had lost nearly all significance for the both of them. Carl tended to check his 'watch' just to see if their night-time was getting on a bit. They both agreed it was best to sleep at regulated times. There were no days and nights at the Junction, they were in bright sunlight all and every one of their days.
One disturbing fact they had learnt about their close sun neighbour was that it was not 'close' at all. About 500,000 years ago it had been of similar size to their own sun, as viewed from the earth. Over the last half million years the 'sun' had grown to the huge object it was now. It was a couple of million miles away but it filled nearly all of one side of visible space. George was concerned that the crust and the supporting activity would shortly, during the next one to five years, break down and the star would collapse.
His concern was that the sun would go super-nova, the Junction and the planets of the system would all disappear in this super-hot vaporising blast. Even the Yil power shields would be as cotton thread to such a cataclysm.
It was, then, a fact that they would leave the Junction because they had no option, whatever they thought about it. It didn't worry Carl, the blasting off into space, they had no choice, they were going anyway.
Pat had expressed the identical thoughts, get their act together and go.
Getting the so-called act-together was the planning required on how they would carry out the search for their home planet. George was no help at all. It was not on his records and he would not, or, it was not in his profile, to suggest any course of action. They would have to work it out for themselves.
They both sat there and began. After barely two minutes it was over. There were no plans that could really be formulated. Square search? Hit and miss search? Neither of them had a clear suggestion.
With the automatic recording of their track, now that the ship was back in 'Blueprint' condition, they could backtrack very easily. It all seemed pretty straightforward.
They would listen out for radio and hope to pick up earth broadcasting. George had assured them that the Yil had found no sentient life or waveband transmissions, so that was a solid locator. The trouble was that they would have to be closer than 60 light years, they reckoned, to have a chance of picking up a transmission, their history was a bit rough on that point.
The hanger was free of 'mice' at last, and they had an undisturbed walk around the ship.
“Hey Pat,” Carl turned to him,” how about giving the ship a name?”
“Easier than saying 'the ship' all the time, that's true,” he agreed,” you've been thinking of it, got any suggestions?”
He had Carl at a loss.
“Dumb bloody suggestion then,” he smirked,” I've got no idea, how about Shadow, she's as black as a shadow, after all?”
“I like it, Shadow, why not?” Carl answered.
“Well then, that's it then, bloody Shadow, great, let's keep it.”
That was easy and it would make life a bit easier, it's much simpler naming something than having to say 'the ship' or the boat or the dog, what dog, what boat, no, Shadow would do just fine.
They were in the cockpit again and the feel of the contour seat was terrific. It was so form fitting that they could hardly feel it being there at all.
“I like the way the windscreens are used, much like the hedup display on fighter aircraft.” Carl commented.
“Nothing I hate more than having to look down all the time in the car, petrol, speed, water, time, why haven't they done the same sort of discrete display in cars I wonder?”
The hanger lights went out and their mellow variable searchlights came on.
“That was smart,” Pat said,” all I did was turn the lights on.”
There was a slight pressure burp in their ears.
“Shall we go?” Came the voice of George.
“Go where?” Carl asked.
“Why on our search of course.” George responded.
There was one of those pregnant silences that went on for what seemed like hours, It was most probably thirty seconds.
“What, now?” blurted Pat.
“Have you something else you have to do then?” asked George.
“Don't suppose we have, are we ready then George.” Carl asked.
“That is A1 affirmative, as Pat would put it.” George came back.
“Sector D7, wedge form 926,” Pat quoted,” on your initiation Carl.”
Carl pressed the select H drive and the Junction was replaced by a few minutes-time of lines and then they only had stars in their windscreen. That was 11,106,500 billion light years on the nose.
“How many jumps Pat?” Carl murmured,” I can't bear to look.”
However, Carl could already see that the surrounding star patterns were odd, even to his untrained eyes, and George was quiet. He was supposed to recognise anything he had gleaned from their inexpert memories of constellations.
“It's only 68 jumps Carl, that's hundreds of thousands different to our jump t
o the Junction.” Was Pat's quiet reply.
Carl rotated Shadow and they had a slow sweeping view of the heavens around them. Not a single shape they could recognise.
“No radio George?” asked Pat.
“Total silence.” George replied.
“So,” Carl exploded,” that was a non-starter, we have recorded our track so that's ok, now we have to choose a sector and I can't see anything likely anywhere. Any ideas Pat?”
“Not right now, got any of that music with you George?”
“Yes I have Pat, Carl would you like to hear some?” Enquired George?
“That would be very pleasant, release the bit of strain I felt right now.”
And the music played, Carl allowed it to soak into him whilst he watched the slow parade of distant and strange galaxies pass the windscreen. Maybe they should just call it a screen, not much wind about.
“Why don't we stay here for a bit Carl?” Suggested Pat.” We're on our way. Let's go to the lounge, have some nosh.”
“That's a damn civil idea.” Carl said. So they did.