Flower-of-Sands_The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut Page 10

  Flower-of-Sands resisted a look of resignation and gave a brief smile. ‘Of course.’

  Astral-La gestured towards an armchair, at the same time bringing herself into an upright position. ‘As you know, I am telepathic, and can converse with people directly through thought, even if they are not telepathic themselves, as I demonstrated once to you.’

  ‘Without my permission, if I remember correctly.’

  Astral-La ignored this. ‘I also have other gifts,’ she went on. ‘Gifts that may scare you even more.’

  ‘I’m not that scared of you, Astral, please.’

  ‘Mm, not sure about that. Let me demonstrate, however.’

  Close to Astral-La’s couch was a low table on which sat a bowl of variously shaped and coloured fruit. Flower-of-Sands had subliminally noticed the fruit, which were rich, diverse, and largely unknown to her.

  A pale-yellow, oval shaped fruit began to rise from the bowl until it hovered just below the ceiling. Other fruit followed, first smooth-green, perfectly rounded fruit, and then small orange, nutlike fruit. Soon the entire content of the bowl was floating around the ceiling, some descending until level with Flower-of-Sands face, the rest spinning randomly across the ceiling.

  She was stunned. She had seen many things in her travels, but never quite this. ‘This is an am … amazing gift,’ she stammered. ‘Did it appear at an early age?’

  ‘Well, yes. But I’ve developed it over the years. Clayton has helped me.’

  ‘It’s a wonder he approved.’

  ‘He doesn’t really, not deep down. But he thought it best to harness it.’ She was silent for a while. ‘I can do things he doesn’t know about.’

  Flower-of-Sands leant forward. ‘Such as?’

  ‘I can disappear without the aid of a smart-skin, or a space suit with a stealth option.’

  Flower-of-Sands was feeling lightheaded. ‘Can you ...?’

  ‘Yes, I can. I can teleport, jump, without engineering assistance.’

  ‘Show me, please.’

  Astral-La vanished and immediately reappeared beside her. ‘See what I mean.’

  Flower-of-Sands was thrilled. ‘Do it again.’ Astral-la repeated the demonstration several times.

  Flower-of-Sands felt breathless with excitement. ‘What about distances, like kilometres, even further, I mean, big distances.’

  ‘Steady on,’ Astral-La laughed. ‘But yes, I can. I need to visualize my destination, at least to some extent.’

  ‘To some extent?’

  ‘Yes. Somehow my mind knows where not to go – like outside the space station.’

  ‘I’ve seen this before, on Earth, with a magical child called Shangri, who was an avatar for all the children of her planet. But she was an extension, a mystic being; you are not that …I presume.’

  ‘I am no one’s avatar, I can assure you, and certainly no mystic being. Fancy a try?’

  ‘You mean … oh wow! Definitely!’

  ‘We are going for a swim, Sands? Strip off and hold my hands.’

  Flower-of-Sands did as Astral-La told her. A second later, they were underwater in the deep end of the station’s main pool. Flower-of-Sands quickly swam to the surface and emerged, spluttering, coughing, and laughing hysterically. Astral-La joined her.

  ‘You might have told me to hold my breath,’ Flower-of-Sands giggled.

  They splashed around for a while before trying more experiments. At one point, still naked, they ended up deep inside the stations storage area. Robots that registered their presence operated the place, and Astral jumped them back to the safety of her cabin where they collapsed in paroxysms of jollity.

  ‘If your uncle knew, he would go crazy,’ Flower-of-Sands said later as she clutched a mug of hot Yeola bean tea.

  ‘He is very conservative, and he is not to know, is that clear. Even Edge does not know, although I sometimes feel that he suspects.’

  Flower-of-Sands was happy. The hopeless feeling that had accompanied her since the meeting with Clayton had abated. And she was no longer afraid of Astral, in fact, she felt Astral and she were becoming friends. Beneath Astral-La’s cool façade was a warm hearted and playful person. She needed a friend; and she also needed someone who shared her need to explore the universe, especially beyond the Home Galaxy, not by merely sending probes, but by going there.

  A few Liberty hours later, Flower-of-Sands and Astral-La decided to walk to the observation/meditation tower. It would take a good hour to walk there, but there were many fascinating things to see along the way, and maybe they could stop off at one of the numerous food and drink outlets. They walked arm in arm, chatting happily.

  They reached a small Marleeseen outlet where food was being prepared by hand, the smell intoxicating. Seats adjusted automatically to their bodies and haunting music drifted from nowhere in particular.

  A beautiful Marleeseen flew towards them. ‘Your order, gentle folk?’ The Marleeseen spoke with an enticing accent, smiling sweetly, silver-grey eyes glowing benevolently, wings fluttering. They ordered.

  ‘I don’t understand why the Marleeseen left the planet and found a planet of their own,’ Flower-of-Sands mused whilst they waited for their order. ‘In my time, they were the second sentient race on our planet, almost forming a symbiosis with us. Why did they leave?’

  ‘It was about four hundred years ago, I don’t know the whole story, except that they evolved away from us. Some remained, however, and they have an island in the southern hemisphere. Some come and work here in the station and elsewhere on and off planet.’

  ‘What is their world like?’

  ‘Wonderful. We must go. We call it Paradise, and paradise it is. I could end my days there; I love it so much.’

  ‘It sounds like what my Earth friends call heaven.’

  The Marleeseen returned with their order and they sipped from long straws, their eyes meeting occasionally as sunlight sifted through shifting panels that formed the ceiling. Flower-of-Sands felt the glow of Astral-La’s presence as a warm excitement in her belly. Her heart fluttered as she drained her glass. Embarrassed, and afraid Astral-La had noticed, she looked over at the Marleeseen waiters grouped around the entrance to the kitchen. ‘Let’s order another drink,’ she said faintly.

  Suddenly, two tall men appeared. They were different from the inhabitants of Liberty, not casually dressed but in dark suits of an unusual design. Flower-of-Sands thought they might come from a neighbouring planet or another system with a dissimilar culture. These thoughts flitted through her mind quickly and froze when one of the men took her arm and pulled her away from the table.

  ‘Hey!’ she uttered loudly. ‘What’s going on?’ The incident reminded her of her misadventures on Earth, and she began to panic. ‘I can fight you know, if I have to.’

  ‘Is your name Flower-of-Sands?’ the man asked.

  ‘Yes, of course it is. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Flower-of-Sands,’ the man spoke with a strange accent, ‘please forgive the intrusion. We are detectives, and the space station authorities have requested that we investigate a matter of extreme importance, a matter that could involve you.’

  ‘Me? How? I have done nothing … wrong.’

  Astral-La stepped forward, her expression challenging. ‘You can’t just appear like this and grab her arm and make demands. It’s unheard of.’

  ‘Not in extreme cases,’ the other man said, his voice high and rasping as if he had not used it for a long time. ‘We have been instructed to apprehend the one who goes by the name of Flower-of-Sands over a matter of the utmost seriousness. We mean no harm, and there is no threat, provided she comes with us.’

  ‘Provided!’ Flower-of-Sands exclaimed. ‘Where are you taking me? Is it off station?’

  ‘Not at this stage; we are to take you to a secure area where we will proceed to ask questions and fulfil our function as detectives.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come with you.’

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ Astral-La erupted, aghast.


  ‘I am serious; I have a feeling about this. I need to go.’

  Flower-of-Sands stepped towards the two men. Astral-La tried to intervene, but one of the men blocked her way.

  ‘Currently this does not involve you.’ He spoke politely but with authority.

  Flower-of-Sands took Astral-La’s hands. ‘Don’t worry, Astral. I’ll call you as soon as I am through. And let Edge know, not that he cares.’

  The detectives led her away, one on each side of her, something unknown in this civilization. People were not ‘led away’ by authorities. Crime or maladaptive behaviour was non-existent. Over eight hundred years ago, during what were known in the history holos as The Rann Wars, billions of this race were exposed to violence and crime, but these experiences were not part of their culture, and were soon forgotten once peace was established. Now, detectives were leading Flower-of-Sands away as if she were a criminal.

  Amidst staring and curiosity, the detectives led her into a staff-only teleportation booth. In the blink on an eye they emerged into a crowded open plan area that Flower-of-Sands guessed was the hub of the space station’s administration. Many of those working at computer and holo desks were busy and many would have been synthetic; nevertheless, she could feel their curiosity. Her situation was unprecedented; yet she was not surprised.

  The men steered her into a large office at the far end of which was a conference table on which there were vases of water and glasses. Chairs around the table looked comfortable but formal. Widows presented an enhanced vista of stars as the station was passing into night. At the lower end of the windows, she could see Liberty Primary with lights of cities, weather patterns, and bands of aurora. It was stunning, but her mind was elsewhere. Although the men were not physically threatening, she felt apprehensive and could feel her heart pounding. This did not surprise her, even although she had done nothing wrong. Why was this?

  ‘Please sit.’ One of the men pointed to a chair.

  She sat and helped herself to a glass of water as her mouth was dry and she was fearful that she would be unable to talk. The two men sat opposite her.

  ‘My name is Detective Arlo,’ one of the men said. ‘And this is my colleague Dangelo. Please, try to relax.’

  That, she thought, was easy to say. Both men were tall and could almost be twins. Both wore neat dark suits like those worn by men on planet Earth, if her memory served her. Arlo was lanky with chiselled features, his eyes grey and piercing. Dangelo’s expression was softer, yet disconcertingly inquisitive, his eyes brown, his lips fuller. Generally, he was more relaxed than Arlo, less formal, but Flower-of-Sands felt that was a façade. They both made her uneasy.

  As she nervously sipped from her glass of water, Detective Arlo began to speak. His unusual accent and precise manner of articulating certain words, gave her the impression that he was out of practice, not only in her language, but with speaking in general.

  ‘We are cloned detective programmes brought out of deep cyber-storage at the request of an authority of this planet. Let me explain. Many thousands of years ago, the collective level of consciousness of your race rose to a level that made crime and violence obsolete. However, councillors and elected politicians whose purpose was the protection and smooth running of society recognized that although crime and war had disappeared there was at least the theoretical possibility of it arising spontaneously, or through unforeseen circumstances. Specialist scientists created us as virtual, holographic programmes. If certain circumstances were to arise, the authorities would resurrect us, provide us with conditioned cloned bodies, and let us loose to investigate, and if necessary apprehend. Such a situation has arisen and the management of this station have requested our help.’

  ‘What has happened?’ Flower-of-Sands mouth was dry despite the water she had been sipping.

  Detective Dangelo spoke, his voice high and rasping, out of keeping with his more relaxed posture. ‘The Shiloramedel valves, as you call them, have been stolen.’

  ‘What?’ Flower-of-Sand’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

  ‘There is little doubt that someone or something stole them. They would not simply disappear. We have made ourselves fully conversant with the nature of these valves and we must conclude that the only explanation for their disappearance is theft.’

  ‘But who would do such a thing?’ She felt her intergalactic plans slipping away. Despondency flooded through her.

  Arlo spoke slowly, his eyes boring into her. ‘Please, Flower-of-Sands, explain your interest in these valves.

  ‘What? You suspect me?’

  ‘Not necessarily, but you are the one, the only one, to have expressed genuine interest in them. Indeed, we understand that your interest in them borders on obsession.’

  ‘I see them as an end, which is to go intergalactic and search for disappearing people, which is what you should be investigating. Call that an obsession if you wish.’

  ‘We were not requested to investigate any disappearances, but your comments are noted,’ Dangelo said.

  ‘You have recently come out of deep space hibernation, Flower-of-Sands,’ Arlo said. ‘Tell us about that.’

  She poured herself another glass of water before speaking. ‘Over eight hundred years ago, I returned from Earth and from the Home Galaxy, which the people on Earth call The Milky Way, to our civilization here in The Throne of Ramold, which people on Earth call the Large Magellanic Cloud. As the distance between the two galaxies is small in astronomical terms, the ship only needed to use the Shiloramedel intergalactic secondary drive, and not the Shiloramedel primary, although both were installed in the ship as a drive-ensemble. In truth, they are merely aspects of the same drive. Something went wrong and I stayed in hibernation for over eight hundred years.’ She took a gulp from her glass. ‘Am I being clear?’

  Both men nodded. ‘Go on,’ Arlo said.

  ‘I woke into a future where things had changed considerably. People were very kind, but I felt a stranger. I entered a long orientation programme. My implant-network was updated. I settled down, but I was left with a longing to explore, to go into intergalactic space, to go to the Great Wheel galaxy, a project I dreamt up when I was on Earth. I made that my goal, to give my life meaning – after all, I had lost everything, my friends, my time, my lovers, everything that gave meaning to my life. I was here, marooned in The Throne.’

  Arlo shifted slightly in his seat, at the same time looking about him as if a question lay somewhere in the room waiting to be revealed.

  ‘Did you dream when in hibernation? Think carefully before you answer. This is not a trick question.’

  She did as Arlo asked her and remained quiet for a few minutes. ‘I did not dream in the usual sense,’ she said eventually. ‘but, in retrospect, I suspect that the Shiloramedel drives communicated with me. I was under a long time, maybe much more than eight hundred years as the time differences are difficult to work out; and the Shiloramedel drive is sentient, in its own peculiar way.’

  ‘When Clayton exposed you and your friends to the valves, did the Shiloramedel drives communicate with you in some manner?’

  Flower-of-Sands was hesitant. ‘I … I think so, slightly. I felt a calling.’

  ‘Explain,’ Arlo said.

  ‘I felt a longing, a renewal of my desire to explore beyond this and the Milky Way.’

  ‘Could this “calling” have inspired you to procure the valves without Clayton’s permission?’

  ‘Certainly not. I would not know where to start.’

  ‘We understand from a person called Remus that you have enquired concerning the whereabouts of the intergalactic drive-ensemble installed on the star ship that brought you the Home Galaxy. Do you have a sense of entitlement concerning the valves?’

  ‘I have never found out about that, but I can only repeat: I did not steal the valves.’

  Arlo’s look was penetrating. ‘Those valves have been there for many years, undisturbed and secure. However, the security was of a protective nat
ure. The valves were hermetically sealed to protect people working in the vicinity from the valves sentience, as it were. Because crime does not exist, nobody would have initiated precautions against theft.’

  ‘Therefore,’ Dangelo came in, ‘it would have been relatively easy, for a resourceful person to steal the valves.’

  ‘Again, are you accusing me of stealing them? That is preposterous. Such a thing is not in my nature.’

  ‘You lived on Earth for some time where crime, at least at that time, was rife, one could almost say, the norm.’

  ‘You can run traces on me. All my activities here must be on record.’

  Arlo’s expression was stern. ‘Again, the surveillance here is benign and not designed to catch criminals, as crime does not exist. Until now.’

  ‘And you think I have introduced it.’

  Arlo shrugged. ‘We are just exploring possibilities. You are the only person to have expressed real interest in the valves. You asked to see them, and shortly after that they disappeared.’

  ‘Well, you can search me, scan me, do what you like with me. Unless I did something in my sleep, I am innocent.’

  ‘That is just it,’ Dangelo said. ‘It is possible that you did this in your sleep, or in a state of hypnosis.’

  ‘But where would I hide them?’

  ‘That is a good question and it is one we have asked ourselves. So far we do not have an answer.’

  ‘Good, test me, investigate me, and scan me. I want an answer too. The last thing I want is the disappearance of the Shiloramedel drives.’

  Arlo was silent, his look penetrating. Flower-of-Sands felt exposed and inexplicably guilty.

  ‘Is there something you are not telling us?’ he said quietly.

  ‘I’m not sure. I need time to think.’

  The detectives looked at one another and seemed to confer silently.

  Dangelo turned to her, smiling. ‘You may go. There is a booth in this room, which you may use. We recommend a good rest, or a swim, or a session in the observation tower. We will contact you again, so please do not leave the station.’