Creative Commons – The Plainsrunner – Chapter Forty-Six

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

The big thing wants them to come inside.

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Chapter Forty-Six – The Doorbell

The marked area on Wayfarer’s screen was almost right in front of them, just ahead of midships, but it was right up at the top. After they’d come around the bow, which had exhibited no interesting features at all, much to their disappointment, they’d returned to their original position. This meant that they were halfway down the twenty kilometer cliff face that was the side of the monster, only they were standing just a kilometer off rather than their original hundred. That put the marked area a little over ten kilometers above them.

“Specialist Blunt,” said Supervisor Steel, “set course. Follow those arrows.”

“But sir …” Blunt began, then caught himself. “Sir,” he said, visibly controlling himself, “what if it’s a trap?”

“I have considered that possibility,” said Steel, “and I have concluded that it doesn’t matter if it’s a trap or not.” Blunt tried to say something, but Steel stopped him. “You see,” he said, “if it’s not a trap, then it’s a great opportunity. And if it is a trap, then we’re done for anyway. Do you honestly think we could escape if that thing wanted to kill us?”

Blunt thought for only an instant before he dropped his head. “No, sir,” he said quietly.

“No,” said Steel. “Our best course is to follow the arrows and see where they lead us. If it’s a trap, then so be it, but the opportunity is too great to pass up.” He looked at the other two. “Does that sound all right?” he asked. “Have I missed anything?”

“No, sir,” they both said. Tallgrass added, “I don’t think we came all this way to turn away now.”

“Exactly,” said Steel. “And imagine if we left and the Sunward ship got invited instead.”

That clinched it. Not even Blunt was prepared to let that happen. He set course and began to follow the arrows up.

At first he found he was overtaking the arrows, so he instinctively decreased his acceleration. Once he matched their speed, they accelerated smoothly until they were halfway there, then decelerated just as smoothly. He matched them by keeping one arrowhead right in the middle of his display, and it was still there when they came to a full stop five meters from the wall.

They were about twenty meters from the top. They couldn’t see them, but they knew the twenty-eight smaller vessels they’d seen were parked about fifteen kilometers inboard, near the ship’s center line. At this angle, they could just make out a section of the light sail’s frame curving out and up and away at its thirty degree angle. They couldn’t see the sail at all from this side, only the stars in their correct positions on the other side of it. It was perfectly transparent from this side.

In front of them was a blank wall. There were no markings. Nothing that looked like writing. All they could see was the faint outline of a square ten meters on a side, and they were parked opposite the center of it.

Nothing happened. Nothing changed on the wall to show that their arrival had been noticed. The arrowhead remained unmoving and unblinking in the middle of Blunt’s display. They were on the Grasswind side of the big vessel, in deep shadow, with the Sun on the other side. The wall mutely reflected their spotlights, revealing nothing.

“Now what, sir?” asked Blunt.

“That’s a good question,” said Steel. “Does anyone have any suggestions? Wayfarer? Tallgrass?”

Wayfarer shrugged, and Tallgrass didn’t seem to hear. He was staring intently at a point just to the right of the ten meter square in front of them.

“Tallgrass?” said Steel.

Tallgrass shook his head and closed his slack mouth. “Sorry, sir,” he said. Then to Blunt, “Could you angle one of the lights over there? Just to the right there.”

Blunt complied and they were able to make something out. It was a shallow depression about a meter long. It had the shape of an elongated, somewhat rounded triangle. But that was all. There was no further indication of its purpose.

It looked as if it should do something. It was different from the surrounding area, and it stood out. They all stared at it, not saying anything, until Wayfarer said, “Do you think it might be a doorbell?”

That got a good laugh, and Steel said, “That’s as good an idea as any.”

Tallgrass looked at Wayfarer and said, “Ah!” then headed for his alcove.

“What?” she said.

“You’ll see,” he said as he ducked behind the curtain.

They looked at each other and shrugged, and he popped right back out with the glider.

“What’s that for, Run- … Runner?” asked Blunt.

Steel said, “Ah,” and glanced at the doorbell.

Wayfarer noticed and looked, too, then said, “Oh. Of course.”

Blunt said, “What?” He frowned at everyone before looking back at the doorbell, then understanding dawned on his face. “Oh,” he said.

Tallgrass said, “When Wayfarer said it might be a doorbell, it just jumped into my head.” He held up the glider. “A doorbell, maybe. Or a key?”

“It looks the right size and shape,” said Steel. “Blunt, measure that depression.”

He did, and the dimensions matched the top of the glider, with its etching of a water molecule, perfectly.

“Permission to make an excursion, sir,” said Tallgrass, holding up the glider in its mesh sack.

“Permission granted,” said the Supervisor.

“How did your mom know?” asked Wayfarer as she helped Tallgrass into his pressure suit.

“I don’t think she knew,” he said, squatting into the legless back end. “She just thought that the gliders probably came from space, and this thing was out here, so …”

“It makes perfect sense when you think about it,” she said. “The difference is, your mom thought about it when no one else did.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping into the front legs. “My mom is the smartest person I know.” He got his hind end and his front legs well seated, then he shoved his arms, one at a time, into the suit’s arms.

Wayfarer reached down between his hind legs and grabbed the zipper, which she pulled all the way up to the top of his long neck. When she lowered the fishbowl helmet over his head, he tucked his ears back to fit. They would stay back there until the helmet came off. The top of the helmet was clear, so all four of his eyes had unobstructed vision, and the bottom was solid, housing switches and readouts, and tubes for water and the energy syrup.

All sealed up, he switched the suit on and watched all his indicators come up ready. Then he took the mesh bag holding the glider and headed for the airlock.

He cycled out into the five meter space between the Emissary and the great wall. He was able to work his way over to the doorbell without using any propellant, using his hands to push himself along. When he got there, he carefully removed the glider from its bag and gripped it firmly in both hands. He looked back and could see the heads of his crewmates in the forward port. He nodded and turned and held the glider out to the matching shape on the wall.

It fit perfectly, seating itself with a tug and a click that he could feel through his gloves. After it snicked into place, it began to glow with a soft white light, as did the line beside it. The whole ten meter square outline lighted up, then that part of the wall drew back inside before sliding sideways. He was looking into a big, brightly lighted chamber, with a line of arrowheads flowing inward on the floor.