CHAPTER1
Clutching her comms device fiercely in one hand, Mina Groza balanced precariously on a scan-portal platform with no handrails, attempting to stand still and keep her eyes trained on the biometrics scanner. She cursed silently to herself. Astrogoda-9 was really out there, in more ways than just distance. It was underdeveloped, backwards, and because of its location—minimally distant from a stable but enormous black hole—time was literally passing at about half the speed as Earth. All of these characteristics combined to make everything a huge hassle.
An unintelligible series of sounds assaulted her, the volume much too loud. She plugged her ears and shouted, “Human!” as loudly as she could, twisting her wrist at a wretched angle so she could see her comms device in case Paolo had some final information to pass on to her.
The ear-splitting sound ceased and a tinny electronic voice replaced it. “Customs and Security at Astrogoda-9 requests your forgiveness. Our scans have detected lightwave frequencies originating from your left upper quadrant appendage. Customs and Security at Astrogoda requests that all non-biological emissions are eliminated for identification and security scans. Please eliminate all non-biological emissions and indicate your readiness for identification verbally. Thank you for complying.”
Mina rolled her eyes but kept her commentary to herself as she shifted her baggage and balanced precariously in order to turn off her comms device. “Ready for ID,” she said loudly. A blueish light scanned her eyes, and the computerized voice—which left something to be desired in terms of translation—counted down the time of the scan for her.
She tried to summon patience, because Customs and Security devices all over the galaxy were prone to scanning impatience as hostility, and she had ended up in “enhanced” security once before and had no desire to repeat the experience.
Also, she was already late.
Thankfully, she either maintained the illusion of calm, or the Astrogoda-9 scan was not very sensitive, because she was released into the spaceport by the same tinny voice several minutes later.
She shifted her baggage again so that she could turn on her comms device, carry the baggage, and scramble to the exit, hoping to do all three at once. Her comms displayed the local time alongside the standard system time and the system standard in her own solar system, as well as Paolo’s local Earth time.
Any way you sliced it, she was late, and Paolo was taking his sweet time sending her yet another diatribe about not failing in this endeavor, couched in the weak tea of his “encouragement,” which she suspected he only added because he had to. Bethesda-Klein Galaxia Developments had a real problem with retention of agents. Not many Humans wanted to schlep around the galaxy in the first place, and if you threw Paolo’s unforgiving nature into the mix, it was an even tougher sell.
But excellent money, and that’s what Mina needed right now.
There was, thankfully, a large enough Human presence on Astrogoda-9 that signage in universal hominid symbols, as well as (somewhat poorly translated) English, was abundant, and she easily made her way outside, following indicators to a “Transport Place,” where she hoped to find her liaison waiting for her.
“Well,” she said, when she stepped outside. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”
The sleek interior of the spaceport had given her a false impression of Old Celox, one that was quickly dissolved when she stepped outside. The spaceport was evidently right next to the old city, and its large walls, towering several stories in Earth-measurements, were just across a highway of sorts from where she stood. She had virtually toured Old Celox, and the walls had left an impression on her even then—they were constructed of a stone, so far found only on Astrogoda-9 and only in this region of the planet, which possessed a luminous quality, almost like opal, but was a peculiar shade of blue that matched nothing she had ever seen. In real life, the color was different than in VR, and there was no way to imitate this in digital format. It was one of the many aspects of Old Celox that made it appealing as a potential tourist destination. A potential gold mine, she thought, marveling at the walls.
She held up her comms device and her identification badge as she approached the only being—biological or mechanical—that she could find on the narrow platform abutting the blocked-off transportation channel. “Human,” she said, waiting for the being—a large, multi-colored hominid nearly two feet taller than her, not a Draquun or a Herstrakaa—to identify itself.
It held a glowing red orb to its head, which in turn displayed a glyph indicating that it communicated through images. Mina sighed and fished her glyph translator out but despaired of the task it would be to use it. She pulled up a picture of Earth and pointed to herself, then followed with a picture of the Parliamentary building. Even as she did so, she was already looking around for another source of information—visual-only (VO) beings were almost impossible to communicate with effectively, and she needed an answer yesterday.
Her comms squawked: incoming message from Paolo. She ignored it and stared at the red orb the creature in front of her was holding, feeling hopeless.
She was about to turn around and seek someone else, when the red orb displayed a series of images in rapid succession and then began to broadcast a message in a monotone, disaffected pileup of words:
“You are Mina Groza representative of Earth corporation Bethesda-Klein Galaxia Developments you have arrived at an unfortunate moment I am your escort please accompany me you are not arrived at the designated time.”
“Yeah, I’m late,” Mina muttered, but into one of her bags. She made a gesture of assent that was acceptable to the native apex species on the planet and hoped it would be understood by whatever this creature was.
“Accompany me in this vehicle,” the red orb spat, after what seemed like an eternity.
It’s fine, she thought. It’s always like this, bumps in the road. No one can expect everything to go perfectly when someone travels to or from an extreme gravitational zone; everything will be okay.
“You are not arrived at the designated time,” the creature repeated, once they settled into a small transport vehicle, shiny silver and shaped like a suppository.
“So I’m told,” Mina whispered under her breath after turning her head to the window.
This did not bode well.
“Excuse me… uh, sir? But what’s going on?” Mina said, after the vehicle sped around the curve of the city walls and then passed through a secure portal and they entered the old city. The scene was chaotic, although Mina was temporarily distracted by the tall buildings made of brilliant stone that seemed almost bejeweled; the curvaceous architecture of the Draquun, bulbous and fantastical, mesmerized her now that she saw it with her own two eyes. The scale of the buildings had not come through in the VR, nor the rich colors, nor the fanciful twists and turns of the buildings made of a white stone that, like the walls of the city, contained a luminescent quality to it that even sophisticated VR could not convey. And, as promised, peach-colored “fires” burned instead of lamps, adding a rustic, archaic appearance to the city that enhanced its charm. Complex spires drove into the greenish sky, and the roads of the city were paves with large, glassy bricks that looked like blue oil spills, rainbow rings of color catching the light. The windows of the city—its most appealing feature, Mina thought—were made of the unique multicolored silicon sands that washed up on the shores of Old Celox. Glassmakers needed not be true artisans to create a work of art in each pane, because the material, if not filtered extensively, was shot through with swirls of colored glass, the hues unearthly and bold.
But all of the city’s austere beauty was a backdrop to an otherwise chaotic scene: the translucent windows were being covered, hurriedly, by metallic coverings and what looked like rugs woven from plant materials. All of the inhabitants—a mix of numerous species—scurried, carrying heavy crates and boxes of supplies, shouting and gesticulating.
“Storm,” the red orb shouted, many moments later, startling Mina. She looked over at her escort.
“A storm?” she asked and made herself look as confused as possible. Most hominids read facial expressions in much the same way.
The creature looked confused momentarily, then displayed a picture of a tornado and the red orb squawked: “A violent disturbance of the atmosphere with strong winds and usually liquid or crystallized water and electrical discharges.”
