Part X – Spooked

This is Part X of the serial space western The Ghosts of Blackmoon Rift. It is also available for download in RTF format here. Or click here for a complete listing of episodes.

Scientists once envisioned that some future, galaxy-spanning civilization might build a spherical structure so vast that it would encircle an entire star, hiding it away behind walls of bonded neutronium. They would harness every last joule of energy from that star as it burned in its secret chamber, and it would power the untold wonders of their technologies. Science had it half right.

Part X – Spooked

 

 

Previously: Young archaeologist Egan Torr is en route to the small world of Blackmoon with companions Miss Kitty and Crash to search for a lost artifact. But his companions are shocked to learn that Torr was actually raised on board the mysterious relic known as the Entropy Device, which is slowly destroying the universe. Meanwhile Wallace and the holographic Murphy are off searching Blackmoon for clues to the disappearance of Wallace’s sister.

 

 

The Sphere colonists stumbled upon the massive structure orbiting the burnt-out ember of a dying star, but it was not the fabled Dyson’s Sphere. In fact it was unlike any Engineer artifact that they had encountered before. The Engineers had a love of symmetry that they expressed in clean, geometrical shapes. This object was huge and uneven, a bulbous mass covered with strange protuberances. It resembled nothing so much as a tumor.

Inside was a labyrinth, built, or perhaps molded, out of the same unknown dark metal as the outer structure. This maze appeared to be without rhyme or reason, a strictly chaotic design which the best computer models could not unravel. The structure was vast and the maze therefore was virtually endless. But for serendipity, the colonists might never have penetrated to whatever engine lurked at its heart. But they did.

There was not one, but three of them: black holes, by some incredible cosmic chance locked in a stable orbit about each other. The Engineers had exploited this extraordinary find by constructing the object around them. The growth-like appearance of the structure might well have been devised to withstand the exotic and massive tidal forces exerted by the trio of black holes.

But it was clear that this structure was not merely intended to house the confluence of black holes. No, this object was a device, built to harness the alarming forces within, energies greater than any sun could produce. But what the Engineers used it for was unclear.

What was clear is that they were somehow plumbing the depths of the black holes themselves. While nothing with any mass can escape the event horizon of a black hole, they had devised incredibly long tendrils out of what appeared to be microscopic energy fields. These cilia extended into the dark hearts of the three vortexes, undulating gently in response to whatever forces pulsed in their forbidden hearts. The Engineers had found a way to reach down past the event horizon to where spacetime itself unraveled and the universe collapsed. What those phantom fingertips brushed, who could say?

. . .

“Sweet Saturn’s monkeys,” swore Crash. “When I was just old enough to know better my momma told me she was gonna take me to the Kiddie Rehab Center and show me what they did to the kids Santa skips on Christmas. Well it scared me straight, sure enough. I had eyes the size of radio antenna for two weeks afterward. It took me another six years to figure out that that was really a meat-packing plant. I still don’t look at bologna the same way.” Miss Kitty and Torr exchanged glances.

“Anyway, I figure she could have saved us both a lot of trouble by just spinning this little yarn of the Professor’s. Let me guess the punch-line, Prof. That ugly little space-tumor grew up to be The Entropy Device?”

“Indeed.”

“How’d you boys figured out what it did?”

“Well, we were able to translate some of the inscriptions on the walls.”

“What, the Engineers write on the walls like ancient Egyptians?” asked Miss Kitty.

“Well, not exactly,” said Torr. “They put up warnings and instructions, just like we do.”

“Right, Miss Kitty,” said Crash. “This Side Up. Authorized Personnel Only . No Smoking. End of Universe Beyond This Point. That kinda thing.”

“Well, specifically it says Entropy of Universe Accelerating When Light Is Blue,” said Torr.

“And is it blue?” asked Miss Kitty.

Torr nodded. “Always.”

Miss Kitty gave a low whistle. “What an awful place,” she said.

Egan Torr looked hurt. “Well I assure you it’s not that bad,” he said.

Miss Kitty was surprised. “Why, you been there, Professor?” she asked.

“I live there!” said Torr.

There was quiet in the cabin. Then Crash said, “Well don’t that beat all.”

“How does anyone live in a place like that?” asked Miss Kitty with eyes like dinner plates.

“Well, scientists do,” said Torr. “My entire family have been scientists for generations. Except for Uncle Nigel, who was a cartoonist. And my cousin Clarisse, who’s been convinced she’s pregnant with Elvis since she was seven. But pretty much everyone else. The Torrs have been in charge of exploring the artifact since it was first discovered.”

“You ever go… down in it?”

“Of course. We’ve clearly marked the correct paths with lights and we’ve pressurized large sections. I’ve been fairly deep into it. Always with a companion, of course. And never for more than a few hours. And we carry special equipment and stay in contact with the base at all times.”

“You ever hear any noises?” asked Kitty.

“Okay, excuse me,” said Crash, raising his hand. “Is anyone else here kind of freaked out by this?”

. . .

Planet-rise on Blackmoon. The luminous gas giant that the little worldlet orbited was just beginning to heave over the horizon and the shadows on the feathery blue grass were still long. Flanagan and his two companions were shivering behind a boulder.

“I’m telling you, Wallace isn’t here any longer! He’d have come out by now. The only people in that house are, like, octogenarians or something,” Flanagan spat.

“Yeah,” said the skinnier and more suspicious of his companions, “But what if Wallace just wants us to think that?”

“You idiot. Why would he want us to think that?”

“Who knows? He’s crazy! He might do anything!”

“Listen, it doesn’t matter what he’s gonna do,” said Flanagan, “It matters what we are gonna do!”

“Gee,” said Flanagan’s other companion, a heftier and more trusting fellow, “That sounds like something Dr. Murphy would say.”

“And he’d be right!” said Flanagan. “This is our chance boys, our chance for glory. That’s our ship, not two hundred meters away. If we want it, we should just take it.”

“Just take it?”

“Right now! March up that hill, climb in, cool as cucumbers, and fly away before anyone can stop us.”

“Yeah!” said the chunky one. “That definitely sounds like something that What Would Murphy Do would… do.”

“Do we have to march?” asked the other one. “I was thinking maybe we could run, just in case.”

“Oh sure,” said Flanagan. “Just to be safe, of course.”

. . .

Three bedraggled shadows went limping up the side of the hill, loping from boulder to boulder as they drew near their parked ship. It was getting rather foggy and no one appeared to have spotted them.

Finally they halted in the shadow of their ship, shaking with cold and excitement, and Flanagan dug around in his pockets for the remote clicker. At last he found it and a ramp lowered from the craft’s underbelly.

Flanagan was half way up the ramp when a voice said “Hola amigo.” He immediately came tumbling back down. His companions dashed back to a safe boulder and turned, panting. A thin man appeared at the hatchway of their ship, gesturing wildly and babbling in an exotic tongue.

“What’s he saying?” the chunky one called to Flanagan.

“I don’t know,” said Flanagan, “Something about my ship. And the clouds – ” the man was gesturing towards the gray sky, “And the ground – the clouds are coming out of the ground?”

The man said something else in his indecipherable tongue. Several thin brown faces had now appeared around him in the hatchway. It appeared a large tribe had taken up residence in the spacecraft.

“Look,” said Flanagan, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language. But this is my ship. You need to get out.”

The man definitely understood this. He shook his head and said “No!”

“Okay, ah, I will negotiate with you! You want help?”

“Si!”

“See what?”

“Si help!”

“Yes, see help! See help! Yes! I will help you. You let me,” he gestured elaborately to himself, “on board the ship, and I will See Help you. Take you where you want to go.” He held up the remote. “See remote,” he said. “See, my ship.”

The man nodded and beamed excitedly. Then a little brown slip of a girl darted out from behind him, grabbed the remote, and slipped back into the ship as quick as a fish.

“Hey! Wait!” yelled Flanagan. “That’s my remote! You can’t have it!”

The man said something excitedly to Flanagan.

“What?” screeched Flanagan. “You give me that back! Right now, before I summon the proper authorities!”

The man pointed frantically.

“No I will not leave,” shouted Flanagan. “This is my property and -”

“Uh, Flan,” shouted Chunky. “Um…”

Flanagan turned. The mist was thickening. In fact, it was getting downright soupy. Flanagan frowned. This made no sense.

“The lights!” shouted his other companion. He peered into the mist. There were lights! Strange, colored ones, in the distance. They seemed to be coming from every direction.

Flanagan felt a jolt beneath his feet. He looked up and realized that the ramp was pulling up. He tried to run up it but strong arms grabbed him and threw him onto the ground. The ramp swung shut with a clang. The spaceship began to hum as it powered up. Flan scrambled to his feet and dashed away. For a moment he was illuminated by the glare of the thrust, then he was left alone in the fog, which was virtually impenetrable by now. He couldn’t see either of his companions.

“Frosty!” he shouted, “Bill! Where are you?” No one responded. Flanagan looked about helplessly.

After a long moment he saw movement among the lights. Then it resolved into the silhouette of a figure drawing near. “Frosty?” Flanagan called out tremulously, “Is that you?” The figure did not respond, but kept walking toward him.

“Is it Bill?” asked Flanagan, backing away. “Frosty, Bill? Wallace? Is that you Wallace? Oh, man,” said Flanagan, as the heavy footsteps drew near. “Please let it be Wallace.”

To Be Continued…

(Part XI is here.)