[....] It was a strange year in that small corner of that galaxy.
On two almost opposite vectors from a star -- nondescript
except claims it once was brighter and had more planets eons
ago -- the events at Psychon are fairly well documented here,
including regarding the Alphans, yet the events at the ancient
world are murky, even though the results are clear. [....]

Just what role the Alphans played there, if any, is not known.
What the Dorcons may or may not have seen is equally poorly
understood -- and fraught with contradictory reports and claims,
at least to outsiders who have heard any of it.

What little is known from the Alphans themselves is so much
less than the known effects that it only further corrodes any
meaningful understanding [....]

[excerpts from Of Mutation and Metamorphosis]

T-393 DAB 0800-2000: Flights 5 and 6

Less than a day after the Indirect Gravity Wave Detector enhancement added to the Scintillator Pool had allowed Alpha to detect gravity waves created upon the Moon's reaching the edge of a star system and falling out of its own hyperspatial bubble, their largest telescope was able to separate out the target world from the glare of its orange-red star.

Over the hours, as the Moon's strange travels brought it closer to the world, they were able to start resolving more and more detail -- initially only its general coloration.

John, Tony, Helena, and Sandra would occasionally glance up to look at the view piped in from Douglas McLeod's station elsewhere in the base. Alan was busy with near-final preparation for the fleet of Eagles scheduled to launch to Kaskalon tomorrow, even while Hauler teams continued their practice pulling down debris that had been in lunar orbit for months.

Even from here, Kaskalon had an unusual look, with a crescent of reddish along its 'left' side, from Red Sun, and a much thicker region of more bluish coloration from the Alkinarda Complex, on the world's 'right' side from where the Moon was. In between was a region of black night, covering about a quarter of the world overall. At this time of Kaskalon's year, it was three-quarters lit by either orange-red or blue. At one of its seasons, there would be no night at all, at other times in its orbit, Red Sun would have a backdrop of the Alkinarda and night would cover almost half the planet, though most parts would see at least part of the Alkinarda, even if not enough to light the planet much.

This had all been predicted for weeks from Maya's initial information, but seeing it still had an impact. Aside from the general illumination factors, however, essentially nothing was known about the appearance of the planet. Now, such details slowly became visible.

Even as a small disk, it was clearly a world of ice and desert for the most part, except for an ocean in one section. The ocean, though large in its own right, seemed to be the only major body of water on the planet, as it rotated through what seemed to be a roughly twenty-two hour day. Much of the planet's water seemed to be locked up in ice.

"City under glass," Commander Koenig quoted from Maya's recitation and translation of ancient alien poetry.

"How are we going to get at a city under ice?" First Officer Verdeschi asked.

John, Tony, and Sandra looked at the tiny planetary disk shown on the Big Screen via the Moon's largest telescope. This was a problem which had been asked before, but an inconclusive answer had emerged by logic, in a recent meeting: if the Bridge was still in active use, as Maya's understanding of the current situation suggested, the ice might be an interfering factor but not an ultimate block. Tony had pointed out, however, that most of the people's who came here presumably had more technology to deal with interfering factors. Still, Alpha had some. Patrick Osgood had already prepared various explosive charges. He had been invested as the lead of the three-Eagle Flight 2, for salvage exploration of the 'rotting cities' -- but it was already noted in the mission plan that he could be flown to Glasscit, the Alphan nickname for the 'city under glass,' at a moment's notice.

By late afternoon, they were close enough that any truly large city could probably be found, and all present eagerly searched for the legendary city. What was found first was quite a surprise to everyone.

"Green," Koenig commented at the view piped into Command Center. The spot, located very close to or at the equator, and which looked oval at this angle, given it was close to the edge of the horizon -- and getting close to rotating out of view.

"Hardly a 'city under glass' in the poem," Tony said, giving Maya a slight smile to indicate he was not being critical, just surprised.

"Overgrown with vegetation?" Helena asked.

"Or buildings constructed with a green color scheme?" Chief Architect Alexander Karedepoulos suggested.

Maya shrugged slightly, saying, "I did not expect this. Either hypothesis is possible, I suppose."

An hour later, however, the green spot had 'set' from Alpha's perspective. The Big Screen view was replaced with a view from a more typical telescopic camera, where the planet was barely a disk, while Douglas continued a more detailed survey of his own.

Miscellaneous readings started coming in over the next two hours, readings they could gather now, much earlier than usual, due to knowledge of where to look for the planet. Sandra and Maya interpreted the readings.

A long-distance infrared reading suggested that the planet's icy poles were very cold, often well below -40 degrees C. The equator, though looking like a desert, was apparently a cool one, averaging barely +15 degrees C at best in the extended day, just below freezing in the smaller night portion.

Maya received a call from Douglas, who reported he had found something else near the world's opposite horizon, having recently rotated into view.

"I think this is on the exact opposite side from the green spot, Maya. This is probably more what you were looking for."

"Commander?" Maya said.

"I heard most of that. Switch his view to the Big Screen."

She did so, and there was something. It wasn't detailed, yet. No individual roads or buildings could be distinguished at this great distance. Still, it was an extended blotch that did look more like a city.

"Well, that is more like it," Verdeschi said.

Just then, Alan arrived.

"It does look more like a city," Karedepoulos stated.

"A city and its opposite," Maya quoted from a different poem.

There was sudden silence, then Koenig quoted the last line of that one: "One of need, one of past."

"If our need is in the city, does that make the green spot the past?" Sandra asked.

Helena turned to look at most of them. "Maybe it should be the other way around. We need somewhere green for us to settle, and the city is the past for aliens."

Maya asked Douglas to magnify more. The view blanked for awhile, then came back showing the city was bisected by a thin blue line, a river which itself was cut by an extremely thin line.

"Any higher zoom?" John asked.

"Negative, this is maximum magnification."

Across the thin blue line was the faintest of a cuts across it. It could have been anything from a narrowing of the river to a--

"Is that a bridge?" Alan asked.

"I would think so," Alexander opined.

"Is it a frozen city under ice?" Alan asked, unaware of the location and temperature information.

Sandra explained. "The city is at or near the equator, and is mostly above freezing, though still jacket temperatures at best."

"Not what you expected either?" Tony asked Maya, uncritically.

"Not quite, except... the shaped poem said 'two halves as whole' -- and this city has two halves."

John leaned forward. "Wait, Maya, good point. Sandra, put up that whole passage on the Big Screen." After she did so, he quoted part of it: "To the city under glass, / two halves as a whole, / a bridge of power." He paused, sat back, and mused, "Bridge across the Alkinarda, and a bridge of power. Douglas, can you pan a little along the river, one way and then the other?"

"Uh, give me a minute or two."

Sandra replaced the poem on the Big Screen with the telescopic view again.

"What are you looking for?" Tony asked.

"Another bridge," John said.

"Why?"

"If it is the only one across the river, I suspect it is the bridge of power."

"Only a substantial bridge would be visible in this view," Maya commented.

John leaned back in his chair. "True, but...." He trailed off, letting the sound of computer equipment fill the otherwise silent air, until the telescope started panning. They watched. The panning didn't take long. "Just the one," John said, adding, "that we can see." As the view panned back to include the presumed bridge, he commented: "The 'key' is the city, or in the city, and here's your bridge of power, Maya -- maybe. Maybe that is the key."

"A bridge being the key to a bridge?" Alan said, chuckling.

"Bridge of power, / bridge of control..." Maya said quietly, almost in a whisper.

"What did you say, Maya?" John asked. "Bridge of control? That's new."

"I just started remembering another. Or part of one."

"Hold that thought. Meeting room. McLeod, did you notice anything else on that planet yet?"

"No, Commander."

"Keep looking, and arrange for someone to take over when needed."

The astronomer/astrophysicist confirmed, while John, Tony, Alan, Helena, Sandra, Alexander, and Maya headed to the meeting room.

Without instruction, Maya immediately headed for the board she had been filling up, and added what she was now recalling.

Bridge of power,
bridge of control,
across the deeply
troubled waters.

"That's all? That looks like a fragment," Alexander said.

"I am not sure. It is all I recall. Each has been somewhat different in form."

"Written by different alien cultures?" Alexander asked.

"Unknown."

Alex scowled a bit, not directly at anyone in particular, but seemingly still directing it at Maya's fragmentary answers.

"Troubled waters...." Tony mumbled. "The river through the city, or a metaphor for the Alkinarda?"

"Or both, perhaps," Maya said.

"So the bridge of power has the control over the Alkinarda?" John speculated.

"Seems so," Alexander said. "As you pointed out, it seems to be a central feature of the city, the key is said to lie in the city. It's all double-talk -- well, multiple meanings, anyway."

"This sort of talk crops up in most of these legends," Tony said.

"Okay," John said. "Anything else for the moment, Maya?"

"No, Commander."

"Okay, everyone take a seat." He, however, walked over to the whiteboard filled with Flights. "We've just found a new feature to explore, but since we've just determined a single focal point -- an exact destination -- for Flight 1, I'm splitting off a Flight 5 from Flight 1. Alan, have you found enough pilots for all phases of Flight 3's hauling potential station debris?"

"More than enough."

"Good, I'd like to have Fraser take lead on Flight 5, to the green area -- potential biome."

"Sir, he's trained the longest on the Flight 3 scenario."

"Longest by how much?"

"Well, not much," Alan admitted.

"I can take lead on Flight 5," Tony suggested.

"No, Flight 1 is just one Eagle, with the right mix of knowledge and opinions to try to crack the mystery finding the key." John then looked at Alan again.

"I could still use Bill on Flight 3," Alan started, "but we are covered if you'd prefer him elsewhere."

"Sorry, Alan, I would." The Commander walked over to the board that had flight planning, and added Flight 5, including listing Fraser, then eventually Lena Andreichi as a botanist and Pedro Gutierez as the zoologist. She had been on a mission before, he had not, but was also a paramedic.

Helena looked the Flights list, and said, "Given the number of Flights and people already committed to this mission, I think Flight 4, the support flight, should also have a Rescue Eagle with a doctor, rather than merely having a paramedic on an existing Eagle. Since you already have me in temporary command of Alpha, I would suggest sending Bob."

John nodded.

Sandra spoke up then, to say, "I recommend also including a Transporter Eagle with additional consumables and supplies, in case there are distribution problems or the planetary teams are temporarily cut off."

"Both good ideas." He modified the whiteboard entry for Flight 4, saying aloud: "Combat Eagle, Refueling Eagle, Rescue Eagle, and Transporter Eagle."

Alan leaned forward. "With four, they can act as a commnet, and we can skip deploying of the commsats, but carry one in each Eagle in case it has to be deployed after all."

"Okay, see to it, and find more pilots for that flight. Sandra, arrange an extra supply list for the Transporter."

"John," Tony said, "I would keep a Combat wing on standby on the Moon, or maybe even keep one Eagle of the wing in orbit on rotation. We're committing a lot of resources to the planet immediately, and putting Operations Exodus and Lifeboat Eagles on standby. That leaves us awfully busy and distracted in two places. We should be defence-ready back here too. The one Eagle in orbit could even launch to the planet on short... well, that's a distance with such an early launch. Maybe a wing at a halfway point?"

"Okay, Flight 6, combat wing here, two such Eagles on ready standby, one in high orbit. All should be weapons-off status, though. No wing at the halfway point: I do not want to over-militarize this."

He added them to the board, and verbally summarized: "Flight 1, Operation Glass City; Flight 2, Operation Salvage City; Flight 3, Operation Salvage Station; Flight 4, support roles; Flight 5, to the biome; Flight 6, defensive at Moon but ready to fly to the planet. Plus: preparation for Operation Exodus; and for a possible Operation Lifeboat Eagles. Helena will be in temporary command of Alpha, with Sandra as her second. This is one of our most complex missions. If you see any gaps, bring them up."

He looked at all his people, proud of their organizational skills, which had often shined on the short-notice problems, and now did as well on this extended-planning mission, the first they collectively had since Breakaway. Helena seemed ready for temporary command. Maya seemed to be taking more and more in stride, with equanimity, without tripping over herself starting or completing usually-unnecessary apologies, or at least not as often. She was regaining some of her former confidence, or finding a new self-confidence, not to mention confidence in friends and co-workers in many cases. The rest were taking their duties professionally.

"Excellent preparation job, everyone. We will continue wrapping up tasking over the next day, including any changes based on remote discovery. It will be a long flight there, so there will be some chance to rest then; but get some now too. This is a complicated mission ahead of us."

T-393 DAB 2000-2100: Prepared Tone?

Commander John Koenig sat in his small down-level office, thinking over the mission, and how the plans for it had grown immensely over the last few weeks. As interpretation of the "neighborhood legends" considered more possibilities, and as more discoveries were made, the mission to the planet had swollen from an initially planned single Eagle of one team, to an incredibly complex mission comprising six Flights, five of them to or around the planet.

With six diverse flights comprising eighteen Eagles, fifteen of them to or around the planet, it was going to be one of the more complicated, most multi-purpose missions made to this point. Any number of failures could occur. Flight 1 could fail to find the 'key' to the Bridge. Flight 2 could fail to find anything useful or feasible to salvage on the surface. Flight 3 could fail to find any orbiting debris to haul. Flight 5 was perhaps the hardest to judge, because there was a biome but Maya insisted no one settled on the planet. Any Flight could suffer injuries or mechanical problems.

Operation Exodus would be on standby, even though Maya clearly thought settling the planet was not feasible, for reasons the legends did not make clear. Operation Lifeboats was also on standby, in case they had to evacuate the Moon and either go through the Bridge that way or to some other distant destination. That was the most unwelcome planned possibility, always a measure of last resort.

Still, despite the numerous uncertainties, it felt satisfying to have had so long to plan. Yet he was not yet satisfied, and decided to go to the meeting room, where most of the planning had occurred, to look over the whiteboards and recall the conversations and make sure he wasn't missing some thoughts. He felt hungry, and swung by his quarters to grab a snack, then headed back to the meeting room.

When he entered, was surprised to find Maya there, alone. She looked even more startled, then relaxed visibly on recognizing him.

"So what do you think of all of this, Maya? The plans, I mean. Not the specifics, more the process of creating them."

Maya laughed a little. "I am amazed at the planning, watching it unfold and now seeing all of it turned into action here on Alpha. It is all very creative. I would have probably only thought of Flight 1, then probably Flight 5 for the biological area after it was discovered, and maybe the support Flight 4 after that. All this, though, is all quite wonderful. You have this down to a science."

Now it was John's turn to laugh. "Nah, it is still something of an art. You saw much of the brainstorming. We've learned a lot of things out here, improved procedures, and everything else, but each new planet is still a new challenge. This in particular is one of the largest missions ever mounted by Moonbase post-Breakaway, aside from Operation Exodus."

"Still, my people were creative, but I am not a strategist, or a mission planner, or a ship'leader, or such."

"Maya, you were still young -- still are, really. Maybe you could have been there on Psychon with time and other experience. Maybe you can be something similar here on Alpha. You've seen brainstorming, and have helped with it. The rest is really a combination of training, experience, people skills, practice, and some other factors, which you either have or could learn."

"I would welcome the opportunity," Maya said readily and steadily.

Just like that. That she had, after some of her usual deferring a few statements before, offered without further qualification that she was ready for the chance and the challenge, despite her not knowing she was already training for and being evaluated for such a position, junior grade anyway, was a very encouraging sign, and a big positive mark in his mind. This, as much as other factors, struck him as making her junior officer material -- that she was interested in leadership opportunities. He remembered that all Psychons seemed to learn something about leadership over the course of their lives, yet also knew it would be a huge uphill battle for her, starting with running parts of the Technical Section. This would likely be her roughest edge by far, but the confidence she was gaining or regaining was startling, and encouraging.

W-394 DAB 0800-1000: Mission Launch

The next morning, Commander Koenig was staring at the viewscreen in Command Center, at a now somewhat-lower-power magnification view of Bridgeworld, showing, from left to right, its distinctive red-, black-, and blue-colored regions.

Sandra and Maya were collating scanner and sensor readings. Since yesterday, Douglas McLeod had since obtained even better views of what was presumably 'Glasscit.' Though block-by-block detail was still impossible, its overall 'look' was one of a huge, glistening city some 60-64 kilometers in diameter. The notch in the river had resolved slightly more, and looked increasingly like a bridge, in the more literal sense. The green spot, seemingly the same size of the city, and also with a river flowing through it, was located on the opposite side of the planet. Both were near the equator. Other spots scattered here and there across the desert still looked like they could plausibly be ruined cities, all of different sizes than the brighter one. There were even some such darker patches seemingly under what were apparently glaciated regions of the planet.

Other than those features and an ocean roughly the size of the Indian Ocean, along with some smaller bodies of water, there were few other features on the planet. Cool desert, water, and colder ice was the dominant conditions. They were far too far away to pick out any potential orbital debris. The planet had no natural satellite of its own, at least none large enough to spot from Luna.

The Moon had slowed enough that the multi-flight mission would be able to leave in little over an hour. Alpha's excitement and nervousness was almost palpable.

With himself, Tony, and Alan committed to the mission, that would leave Helena and Sandra as officers on base, to keep Alpha running smoothly and ready to move at any moment if either Operation Exodus or Operation Lifeboats was fully activated. For two-thirds of the time on the planet, those on the Moon and those on Kaskalon would be out of communications range.

After some final prep, right around 09:00, he faced those in Command Center. "Okay, everyone on the mission is dismissed until 09:30, when you meet in your previously designated Reception areas. Helena, the Moon is yours."

He said it without thinking, "the Moon" slipping in instead of "Alpha." There were some amused snickers, almost everyone soon either smiling or trying to hide a smile, except for Maya, who noticed the reactions and looked baffled. He was too, for a moment, not thinking they were disrespecting of Helena being handed temporary command, but not sure what, until he realized....

For generations, some men had promised their significant other "the Moon." John had, in a manner of speaking that had nothing to do with the metaphor, just done something no man had been able to do literally: given her the Moon. Probably just about everyone on Alpha knew or at least suspected John and Helena were increasingly a couple. "Well, you know what I mean," he said, though he knew he'd probably have to explain it to Maya. If she didn't already know or suspect the same as everyone else, she would afterwards.

Alexander Karedepoulos headed to the Reception area of the Travel Tube to Pad 1, and discovered Maya already sitting there, apparently wanting to be very punctual. She had a kit with her. It was generally-known she had built some sort of multi-function hand-held scanner using discarded Alphan technology, as a way of learning the latter. She presumably had that along with some other equipment.

He had brought his own kit. Surveying equipment, mapping tools, distance finders, graph paper for sketching buildings or layouts, density meters, and other handy items. This was the stuff he could carry easily. In a couple of cubes were some other, bulkier equipment. He had no idea what of all of it he might use, but had to be prepared. It was a first for an architect to be a member of the primary mission team, and he was going to do his best.

Maya stood up for greetings with Alexander. After greetings, they both sat down, and did not exchange any more words. She wasn't known for small talk, and Alexander didn't really have much to say to her. It was his first off-Moon mission, and obviously hers since arriving on Alpha, and despite both being junior members of this Flight, the fact that her information was so key to the entire mission, irritated him a little, and he wasn't sure if it was over some misplaced macho thing or that she was who she was.

Just then, the first officer appeared.

When Maya noticed, her face seemed to brighten, and Tony and Maya chatted for awhile. With Tony Verdeschi, Maya seemed to have no problem with small talk.

It suddenly struck Alex that she really seemed to like the first officer -- and that he certainly didn't seem to mind seeing her again. He wasn't sure if this was singularly odd or hardly surprising, on several levels, given plenty of rumors the security officer had regarded her with barely-disguised suspicion at times.

John was the last to arrive. Tony and Maya were talking, Alexander was looking at them a bit, then standing when he noticed John. A quick "Ready?" question met with three affirmative responses, and they proceeded.

Looking at Maya sitting on a seat on the Travel Tube, calmly looking at John or Tony if not Alexander much, John recalled her first time in a Travel Tube, sitting nervously, scared really, not meeting anyone's gaze. Now, dressed in Alphan rather than Psychon clothing, she was chatting a bit, animated, looking at people, seeming ready to face the challenge. She had led a small team of humans, and was now a member of the primary mission team, and apparently more than ready to take on the challenge, maybe not with full confidence, but as a rather different woman than the one who had sat in a similar Travel Tube seat fifty days before.

There could be no doubt that she had strength and resilience, as he had suspected. In that way, she was very Alphan. For all her alien characteristics and background, she was increasingly showing herself well-suited to Alphan life, even if there was still plenty of adjustment which would have to continue.

Suddenly, making her a junior officer did not seem as much throwing her in the deep end of the pool as Tony had said it would be, even though she would still have to work at it. Even John had had his doubts, but they were starting to fade. It would be interesting to see how well she performed on this mission.

She had along a case of equipment, mostly of items allocated for her use before the mission, but he also knew her kit would also include her own unique contribution: a general-purpose scanner cobbled together from cast-off bits of Alphan technologies she had both repaired and assembled in a unique way. The device was totally Alphan technology, yet... it was a Psychon design. She was already starting to fulfill that other hope he had for her, of being able to add considerable scientific knowledge to Alpha, and mix in that and alien technical know-how. The cross-training elsewhere had brought out many ideas, some of which were being pursued, and a few of which had already born fruit.

Once they arrived at and walked into Eagle 1, Alexander heading towards a general seat, and Maya silently taking the science station. John observed how she seemed to settle in with ease, like she had been doing it for years, setting up what she needed to, probably double-checking her programs and the other programs were ready to go.

Somewhere along the line, however, Maya had given John the impression that she wondered why Alphan computer technology wasn't up to the standards of Alphan gravity generation technology or force field technology, once again making him think his friend Victor was well ahead of his time.

He shook his head his head and headed to the pilot module, wishing again his brilliant long-time friend Victor could have met this remarkable young woman. Incredible leaps could have happened. Victor, probably more than any other Terran, would have probably been able to grasp at least a little more of what Maya might say, instead of Maya having to constantly having to filter herself just to be understood.

That she was already building some hardware and software with Alphan components but a Psychon twist, and how Alphans were warming up to her and giving her their ideas, were very encouraging signs. She was a quick study, had some real ideas already, wanted to help, and had found some confidence again.

John had settled in the pilot seat, while Tony took the co-pilot seat. John looked up. This Eagle was facing the risen part of the Alkinarda, but he could see Red Sun off to the left as well. The planet wasn't distinguishable from the background. The Moon was still a long distance away from the planet, and the Eagles would be putting on and then shedding a lot of speed to get there well ahead of the Moon. It was still going to be a full day's journey, however.

As Eagle prep wound down, he called back to Maya, and as professionally as anyone else, she informed him she was ready to proceed. He asked her to ask Alexander, and after a pause, she affirmed his readiness as well. She was so earnest in general that some things were already starting to come naturally for her.

John turned to Tony, who looked at him in turn.

"Very professional," the first officer offered.

"Just what I was thinking. So how about my wild idea?"

"Maybe not so wild after all."

They mutually interrupted that line of conversation to go through the final checklist, and soon launched the Eagle.

Minutes later, Eagle 1 and the fourteen others were assembling in orbit and double-checking everything was still a go.

Despite his having seen it in test flights, the sight of the first Hauler Eagle reaching orbit, with the vast sweep of the bluish Alkinarda Veil and Shepherds as a backdrop, was still a startling one as it joined up with this fleet. It was definitely a strange bird, for its "pod" was hardly the slung-below types of pod, but all sorts of extra girder work well outside the Eagle's normal range of profiles.

"I wonder what the Eagle makers back on Earth would think of that one," John commented, then felt surprised to tap back to thoughts of Earth. Something about Commemoration Day and the long gap since Psychon had brought such referential thoughts back a little -- just a tiny bit.

"Don't know. Maybe one would think we had stared too long at a -- what did they call it? Rock'It Sock'It Robot?"

"Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robot."

"Yeah, those counterweights held up front look like fists. We could always codename this configuration the Boxer or something. Hopefully it will find some big chunks of metal to punch out of orbit and onto the floor of the Moon."

John laughed. The counterweights weren't meant to touch anything, for things would be pulled behind, not pushed up front. Some of Tony's remarks....

They waited five more minutes for the rest of the fleet to assemble. Then, as the optimal break-orbit point came up, they began launching towards the first alien world they had ever received such incredibly advanced warning about during their journey. Eagle 1 remained in the lead, with other teams as individual Eagles or wings, scattered about a moderate distances.

No one had to remind them the whole mission was pinned on ancient alien legends remembered by a Psychon who was neither historian nor poet, interpreted by her and humans, with a lot of guesswork trying to fill in the gaps. It was all they had, though, and much more than usual.

Even dead-ahead of them, on unmagnified view, the point that was Kaskalon was not visible against the sheer bright expanse of the Alkinarda showing behind, the immense nebula and the bright blue stars standing out far more brilliantly, the Shepherds ready to cook the Moon mercilessly, and the Veil capable of taking whatever and whomever might survive, swallowing them up and then delivering them to a rift that would perhaps rip them to shreds.

They settled in for a long flight.

R-395 DAB 0600-0800: Approach

The fleet of fifteen Eagles, scattered about a cubic kilometer, had chewed up considerable distance over the past day, accelerating to a high speed and now starting to slow down.

In the Eagle's telescopic camera, the world swelled slowly over the many hours which followed, until it was "back" to being a sharp orange-red-tinged crescent on the left, a brighter yet fuzzier bluish-tinged crescent on the right, and black in the middle, the planet's two very different light sources imparting a curious set of colors where the planet itself had little. Yet it soon became apparent that in the reddish area was some blue: part of the planet's one moderate ocean. The larger was half-rotated out of view to the right, blending in more with the blue light shining on it. The city was almost dead ahead at the moment, quickly rotating through the un-lit area, but still two hours from reaching the blue light. It could not be seen at all, which even at this distance implied little or nothing in the way of artificial light sources.

The door behind them had been open the whole time, John or Tony occasionally getting up to stretch their legs, talk with Maya and Alex, or sleep. On the latter occasions, Maya had come forward to sit in the pilot module, again on the principle of keeping two pilots, even if one was still a trainee pilot, in the command module at most times -- if two or more pilots were available on a flight. Maya was back in the passenger pod for awhile now, and the latest time John had gotten up just to stretch his legs, Alexander was refreshing his memory of the poetic legends, while Maya was studying read-outs. John nodded at their professional approaches to the mission.

Now back in the pilot module, John and Tony sat, both getting a little bored, alternately relaxing or re-reviewing onboard systems which showed Eagle function was nominal, or doing routine checks with other Eagles. One Eagle on Flight Two reported a fuse had blown but had been replaced with no further difficulty. That had been the extent of problems with the fleet.

"Nearly two months since Psychon has really given Technical and Alan a chance to get the whole fleet tuned up well," John commented into the silence which had reigned since that report.

Tony laughed, and said, "Yeah, when have we ever had that chance before?"

"Rarely."

Almost every bit of such conversation among Alphans, for months, acted as if Breakaway were the start of everything they had done on Alpha. For John, it was almost true anyway, having taken Command of Alpha only four days before the catastrophe. He had been on Alpha as a captain, but that seemed almost a lifetime ago, even though it was not that many years ago. Yet he noticed that even among those on Alpha well before then, that verbiage tended to treat Breakaway as the start of time on Alpha -- sort of. It was not wholly true even then, but it was still a very notable tendency, even if he did not notice it most of the time. It was like half of the time, memory went no further back than Breakaway. A hard-fought battle for survival through hit after hit, and memories of what they had lost still painful even after more than a year, conversations sometimes seemed to treat Days After Breakaway as the only time that counted in their current life.

However, at the moment, the only time that really counted now was the few days before the Moon's closest approach to Kaskalon. No one, not even Maya, was sure what the true deadline for solving the riddles was, but everyone felt that if they didn't have it by that point, they'd likely be in trouble. As always, it could be a difficult mission.

It wasn't much longer before they reached a point where the Eagle's small telescopic cameras now finally had a better picture of Kaskalon than Alpha's best telescope had just before they left. New data started coming in, and everyone on all the Eagles was up and ready.

On this mission, Eagle 1 had the best long-distance sensors, and Maya was at the science station interpreting them, stepping away only to deliver a report.

"I am picking up indirect readings of unusual patterns in this area, suggesting there is an active technology. At this distance, I am not sure if it is from the planet, beyond it, or near it."

It was still too early to detect any space station debris.

However, Maya had found something else. "The magnetic poles are very close to, or at, the rotational equator. They appear to be aligned with Glasscit and the biome on opposite sides of the planet."

"What does that mean? Is there some benefit to building a city and maintaining a biome underneath magnetic poles?"

"I've not heard of it being done so intentionally before. I will consider it."

Maya left the pilot module, and John turned to other matters.

At this point, the Eagle fleet began splitting. Flights 1, 2, and 5, all intended to land at various points on the planet, adjusted slightly towards the left. Flight 4, intended for a 5000 kilometer high orbit, aimed somewhat to the right. Flight 3 had no data yet on station debris or orbits thereof, and continued on its same path. The result was a group of five Eagles aimed slightly left, six in the middle, and four to the right.

Fifteen minutes from orbit, every Eagle could see the city with its telescopic camera, Glasscit having moved into the area of the planet lit by the Alk^inharda, though it was only dimly lit for how only a fraction of the Veil and one or two Shepherds, dozens of light-years distant, were lighting it.

Still, it was enough to see a little more detail. They could see some cloud formations here and there, but not very many. Maya again stepped forward and knelt in the pilot module, between John and Tony. "I am now able to scan the city. I have a more precise size: approximately 62.4 kilometers in diameter. It has numerous tall buildings, probably thousands over a hundred meters, hundreds over four hundred meters, and tens of them over a kilometer tall."

Tony gave a low whistle. "Earth never had any actual building over about 500 meters."

"Nor Psychon," Maya commented briefly, one of the few things she had offered about her planet in awhile.

"Have you found a bridge yet?" Tony asked.

"Yes. The river flowing through the city is approximately three kilometers wide, and roughly in the middle of the city is the bridge."

"Still just one?" John asked.

"That I can tell. Even with this instrumentation.... Sorry, I--"

"It is...?" John said, cutting off her apology. As increasingly typical of late, she smoothly moved on, as if she was herself wanting to break herself of the helpfully humble but now needlessly excessive and unnecessary habit of apologizing for any tiny thing that she thought might have been taken as a slight or otherwise troubling.

"-- it is difficult to discern detail well. I am not sure why."

"Let me try," Tony offered. Maya did not seem to take the slightest offense, and in fact smiled, as if relieved someone was going to double-check her work, even though John suspected that everyone would find it unnecessary, and that she would continue gaining confidence. Still, everyone, including Maya, knew the wisdom of a cardinal rule on Moonbase Alpha: If in doubt... double-check. If still in doubt... ask or accept a second opinion.

In this case, Tony found the same result. "Something in the atmosphere scattering the scanner a little?"

"Possible," Maya said.

"Any ideas?"

"Many, but none which correlates better than any other."

"Active interference by alien technology?" Tony asked.

"Such possibilities are included."

The three of them talked briefly, but in the end, nothing stood out yet. The oddity still put the two Terrans slightly on edge, but didn't seem to bother the Psychon in the slightest. She looked from Tony to John and then back to Tony for a short time. Curiously, she seemed to successfully pick up on their body language this time, for she soon said, "I would have been more concerned if I had not detected something indicating possible systems activity."

"You have a point," John said with a smile, "We are seeking some active alien technology to open the Alkinarda Bridge." John then made a point of consciously and visibly relaxing himself. Tony, probably more unconsciously following his lead than anything, soon did the same, and smiled in turn.

Maya smiled too, but not just an automatic return of the smile: her eyes twinkled too, as if happy to have cheered her friends up for a change, even if only a little, rather than everyone around her cheering her up.

She looked at the sight of the planet. "Kaska'lon," she said simply, then paused for seconds before continuing. "I've heard the legend for so long, so terribly repetitively, that after awhile it seemed less real, not more. Yet there it is, a place no Psychon really wanted to visit due to the Alk^inharda and the war which were so disruptive. Yet it is strangely beautiful, and if I am the first Psychon to actually step onto it, that is fine." There was silence for several seconds, as they let her just soak it in, then, before John could say anything.... "I may be able to detect hypothetical station debris now. Commander?"

"Proceed. Bring any news back up here."

With an affirmation, Maya left the pilot module.

Tony looked at John, and raised his eyebrows slightly, in a questioning look. John nodded very slightly, doing nothing more than confirming he'd noticed: yet more initiative from Maya -- another good sign for someone he hoped to make an officer.

A few minutes later, she returned, saying, "There are objects in various orbits, mostly in a relatively confined orbital band -- at least what is detectable from here. Each object is over 80 meters to detect at this range, assuming they are metallic objects."

"If not?" John asked.

"Non-metallic, non-icy reflectivity would imply much larger objects."

"Okay, Maya, contact Flight 3 and relay your initial debris location findings to them. Alan will take it from there."

"Yes, Commander."

As the remaining time went by, Flight 4 began taking over more organizational details, as planned, to allow Flight 1 to stay more focused on the high level information and the information specific to their Eagle's mission. Since removing Sandra from Alpha and leaving only one officer was deemed unwise, during planning, Sandra had recommended Alibe, often part of third shift, coordinate. For the moment, Eagle 1 kept its channels open, and listened to the chatter as she began directing various Eagle flights to split up further, some slowing faster than others, to allow for approaches to different points in orbit or to the planet. Flight 3, with Alan leading it, still had some greater autonomy, and she gave only some suggestions.

Eerily, the sequence reminded John of Paul's directing Eagles while trying to break up Nuclear Waste Disposal Area 2's piles, not long before they had went up, or other occasions where Paul had been acting the Controller. Sandra had taken over some aspects of his role well, whereas Alibe's inexperience was showing through more for her than for Paul or Sandra. The job got done, though.

Some planet-bound Eagles would still have to orbit temporarily, but John had been loath to have all fifteen Eagles split up earlier, preferring only a three-way split until at least some better readings had been obtained.

Meanwhile, Maya's continued scans of the cities -- 'rotting' or 'under glass' -- continued to become more precise, though the scans of the latter were still a little "off" -- a tantalizing hint there was still active technology down there. Fortunately, no one found any signs of working machines orbiting above the planet. There was no sense of an intact spaceship in orbit before them. It was hard to be certain, but it was a good sign. With the team arriving as a staggered fleet, they would go into multiple points in orbit, and be able to detect threats in a more complete fashion.

It was time to get to work.

R-395 DAB 0830-0900: Debris of Station

"Okay, thanks, Maya," Alan said after he received initial information, then similarly after receiving some further recommendations from Alibe.

Alan then split up Flight 3, six Eagles strong, into its three teams, of one Hauler and one so-called 'spotter' each.

Spotter had become only a partially-accurate name. Those three Eagles did have better scanners to aid in finding the 'best' pieces of debris, and later, during an actual burn, could stand off to the side, paralleling to watch the Hauler pulling the debris and making sure all looked good. However, they'd also be active doing EVA to drill and/or weld onto the debris to hook chains between it and the Eagle's Hauler 'pod' -- demanding work, while the pilots in the Hauler had to remain inside, for there was only an emergency egress from their pilot module. The usual door was unusable because what was docked to the Eagle was not a normal pod: directly behind the door was an impassible section of the rig, constructed of beams and a box girder salvaged from the Satazius, and now being put to Alphan use.

Alan's spotter picked a likely first target, and Alan moved towards it, slowing to settle into its orbit. After a couple of minutes, he eased up behind it, initially putting it in front and to the left of his Eagle, to have a better look at it. Sure enough, it was artificial, metallic, and several times longer than the Eagle. It had a narrow profile, to help limit its exposure to Eagle engine exhaust, which might push backwards on it while the Eagle was trying to pull forward.

"The 'station' must have been huge when it was intact," his co-pilot commented.

Alan called his wingman, and the spotter gave more information. It was within the size range, and was tidally locked to the planet, so the team would not have to deal with rotation. Mass and density were still unknowns, so back on Alpha, a somewhat arbitrary volume range had been chosen, based mainly on observations of the density ranges of alien alloys. Spaceships and space stations served rather different purposes, but there was still some hope that some analogous metals had been chosen. The first haul attempt would be very telling.

Alan eased his Eagle forward, sliding by the debris and then more than a hundred meters in front of it. Long chains would be used. Some space had to be allowed, to minimize the amount of engine exhaust that would hit the debris and push backwards on it while the Eagle tried pulling it forward.

The spotter eased in far closer to the object, and Alan gave the go-ahead for their EVA, then switched his attention to relaying his first impression to the two other teams within the Flight, and directing them to continue into different points in this orbital band, where they could pick their first targets.

By the time he turned his attention to the back camera, he found the spotter's EVA team was already moving to a spot on the large chunk of debris, approach a likely first attachment point, where they would held a 'grip' that a chain-and-spring setup could later be attached.

He relayed status to Alibe on Flight 4, then settled back for news on the welding.

R-395 DAB 0900-0930: To the City Under Glass

Flight 1's sole Eagle descended through the atmosphere. Ironically, some higher clouds had started passing along their flight path, so it was not until they were close to the city that they got under the clouds.

Suddenly, there it was. The city started almost out of nothing. There were no scattered houses thickening in ragged fashion. Buildings simply started, and not individual houses, but four to ten-story buildings, rather abruptly. There was desert, then there were buildings.

Ahead of them, even some distance from the center of the city, was an initial cluster of skyscrapers, a couple kilometers in. The ten-story buildings soon yielded to twenties, thirties, and higher as they got closer to the cluster. John could already tell there were several in this initial cluster that were taller than the World Trade Center. Like part of Manhattan only it was near the edge of the city. The cluster yielded to smaller skyscrapers, and he could see one of the central clusters some distance ahead, with some of the kilometer-tall structures Maya mentioned.

Every building gleamed in blue light. There wasn't a brownstone to be seen. Yet the view was somewhat restricted. Still, it was already stunning.

"These people didn't think small," Tony observed.

Still, another view was somewhat restricted too. Some of the smallest buildings were not scanning well. The intact city wasn't just shrouded in mystery, but with some sort of puzzling interference pattern which seemed more promising than threatening.

"Even if Maya's poem says 'city under glass,' it looks like a city of glass to me," Tony added.

In a few minutes, they were passing the most incredibly-towering structures, to the port side as they flew along one side of the river that weaved through the city. There were more to starboard. They now towered above the Eagle, whose altitude was lower now as it approaching a target -- one of the key features of the ancient city. They turned a bend in the river, and there it was, just as Maya and Alexander came forward for a look, the latter yielding awkwardly to the enthusiastic Psychon.

There, in plain view even in the bluish half-light, was the most massive suspension bridge John Koenig had ever seen, joining the two halves of the impressive city. It was white in color, its eight sets of massive piers towering over the wide river. It was long, imposing, wide, yet elegant.

Tony gave a low whistle, then said, "Would you look at that."

"Wrong color, but it reminds me of the Golden Gate, a little, but at twice the height, and three times the length..." John commented.

"A lot of extra trusses in this one," Alexander observed.

"Two bridges in one, actually" Tony commented. "See the huge rock in the center?"

"I'd say we just found your 'bridge of power,' Maya," John commented.

"Amazing, and beautiful," she stated. She had never seen its like before outside of holorecords. Psychon had cities when Maya was younger, impressive in their own right, but not to this scale. "This city, too. It could easily hold tens of millions of people, if not a hundred million."

"Hmm, yeah," John said distractedly, wondering.... "Why is there only one bridge across the whole city?"

"I do not know," Maya said.

"You know," Tony said, "there is something odd about this city. It looks quiet, but so pristine, but that interference pattern persists even at this low height. I can't scan the smaller structures, like the radar is... I don't know."

"Any thoughts, Maya?"

"Not directly, but maybe the 'under glass' part of the central poem hints at the reason."

"What sort of reason?"

"There must be considerable power here in this city, to control the actual Alk^inharda Bridge, and perhaps it emanates from various parts of the whole city, interfering with some of your... the... Eagle's sensors."

John nodded, but partially at Maya altering more and more of her references to not exclude herself.

The bridge grew in the screen.

"Four hundred meters out," the commander said. "Tony, scan for a place to land, preferably within easy walking distance or easy for the moonbuggy to traverse. You two, buckle in for landing."

Maya and Alex left the pilot module. There was a wide approach to the bridge, but there were decorative beams across the road, making it unsuitable for landing. Tony searched about and finally found flat, open ground. The space was perhaps a park tens or hundreds of millennia before, about a kilometer from the bridge, with some relatively shorter buildings in between. It was probably going to require moonbuggy use.

They landed smoothly, except....

"That's odd," Tony said. "Landing radar must be misaligned or something. According to it, we landed almost thirty centimeters off the ground."

"Hmmph," John mumbled, checking his readouts and confirming both Tony's findings and that the system claimed it was in working order. It was irritating, but it could have been worse, as they might have hit ground so early they could have damaged the pads.

He asked Maya to run some atmospheric scans from the back module. The results were roughly as expected: breathable air, cool but tolerable air ("normal jacket should be enough"), no red flags on other factors.

Alexander could not wait to see the city with his own eyes. The glimpses so far had only been tantalizing. The over-eagerness of their strange traveling companion and the command personnel's conferring with her about interference patterns were annoying and of only moderate interest to him, respectively. To lay eyes on a city, a real city....

He was first at the side door, only feeling slightly foolish that at his 44 years of age he should be acting like he was fourteen. Even Maya seemed to have more reserve. Well, she seemed to have a lot of reserve, except--

He cut his thinking process off, not really caring. Finally, all four of them were gathered at the door.

When it opened, Alex whistled slowly. A good part of city was laid in front of them and across the shore.

Under the light of multiple blue stars, and the blue-hued nebula, even though not truly bright, the towers of metal and glass still glittered brilliantly, beyond belief.

The architectural metaphor almost seemed human in some ways -- with maybe 50 or a 100 more years, New York or London or Hong Kong might have... -- yet alien in others: buildings with lots of diagonal setbacks, obelisk-style buildings, Transamerica-style buildings, some buildings with garish yellow or green glass where most had blue, or buildings with alternating glass colors from floor to floor. The color shadings were subtle, yet still diverse. Not a single building had a communications tower, nor signs of massive air conditioners or other equipment up top -- though the Alphans weren't really at the best height to see the latter.

He was, nonetheless, in complete awe. So many buildings were skyscrapers, one after another, a fair distance between each, yet still presenting as walls in an arc around him -- some towering to heights he had never seen before. The skyscrapers spread out, kilometer after kilometer. It was like Manhattan might have been if everything were magnified in height, and spread out well into New Jersey and Brooklyn -- only here there was only one very wide river.

It was also almost dead quiet. There was a slight wind, but the buildings were somewhat more widely spaced than in a typical Earth city, and the wind wasn't whistling between them, at least not now. There was a bit of distant... what seemed like bird sound of some kind. Yet it could have been an alien library, tall book kiosks and a rule about silence, for there was little sound.

The air smelled a little dusty, but the buildings seemed quite pristine. It was a bland scent or lack of scent, neither like a city nor a living planet. Yet there was life, for a black, winged dot could be seen flying in front of a building some blocks away.

They all started stepping down the stairs, slowly, all still transfixed by the city, except finally for....

"Uh, look at this," Tony said. They all followed where Tony was looking at, to see the stairway's bottom footings were not resting on the ground, but rather about a foot above it. "Same as the radar reading, John," Tony said. He then looked around and underneath the Eagle, and added, "It's the whole ship; we're sitting on top of something."

"A force field?" John asked immediately, having so recently run into one. Tony started walking down the ramp. "Wait!" Koenig ordered, remembering something else about force fields, or at least Psychon versions, which he had learned the hard way. Verdeschi stopped and backed up part way. "Maya, can you tell what it is and if it is dangerous in some way?"

She took out her own recently-completed scanner, used it for a few seconds, then shook her head, and said, "From what I can detect from this, it is safe -- a patterned force field I think. There is another way to check." She took the steps down, past Alex and then Tony, knelt on the bottom step, and carefully brought her hand towards the surface. It seemed a risky thing to do, yet she acted like it was normal procedure.

"You would feel for the... tingles an unpatterned force field would make," she explained quietly, before her hand seemed to touch something. "It is a patterned energy barrier, a more solid force field."

"Patterned force field?" Alex asked, intrigued that a force field could present like solid ground. "Is it uncharged?"

"Well, it is charged, but in fine alternating layers, and together act solid."

She walked onto the shield, just as the Commander said to wait. She froze, already standing on the shield, a third of a meter above the actual surface of the planet.

"Never mind."

Alexander smiled a bit over her being called out, yet not unsympathetically towards her enthusiasm to get moving, something Alex felt too. Maya turned, getting a look he could tell was apologetic. She did not give a verbal apology, and the non-verbal one faded, looking more like she was reprimanding herself. The Commander was letting her off easy, Alex thought, also noticing again how easy she was to read at times. He had heard from others, and with his own ears, how quick she had been to apologize about lots of little things, so maybe she was being encouraged not to be so serious about every little point. She just stood in the same spot until John started climbing down too, then moved to let everyone else step down too. Tony closed the Eagle door with his commlock.

Alex stepped cautiously onto the surface, then took a few steps. He looked at his feet in wonder, like all three others, as they walked around and tried to get over the disconcerting feeling of putting their feet down in "empty air" thirty whole centimeters above actual ground.

"We're probably better off not looking at our feet," Koenig said.

"Right," Verdeschi agreed.

"Hold on..." the commander said. "Maya! Could such a force field be covering the biological area too?"

"That area is about as large there as the city here," Tony commented.

"Maybe, but...." She looked puzzled. "There were no structures observed there."

"From space. Maybe not large structures," Tony commented.

"What minimum size were you detecting here?" she asked.

"Nothing under ten meters really registered."

"If there were structures smaller than that in the biosphere, it is highly unlikely they could generate a patterned force field of similarly immense size."

"Maybe the interference problems were because we are at the magnetic pole here," Alex said. Maya had obviously mentioned it to him as well.

"The radar is not magnetic," John said.

"Of course," Alex murmured.

Everyone could see some sort of realization dawn on Maya's face.

"Planetary magnetic dipole energy conductance; that would be a very clever source of energy transfer for this force field."

"So there could be a force field there too?" John said, getting right back to the point.

"This is a very complex, powerful field; but surrounding plants and animals with it... lethal."

Alex looked at her. "What if it were not so complex on that side, smaller equipment perhaps creating a simpler shape, a dome, like the Bergman Shield?"

"Perhaps... but..." her face started getting a concerned and then horrified look. "Commander..." she started, but....

The Commander was already retrieving his commlock, Maya's changing expression already telling him all he needed to know.

"Flight 1 to Flight 5! Emergency order! Abort Approach! Abort Approach!"

After a couple tension-filling moments, came pilot Bill Fraser's voice. "Flight 5 Eagle 4. We've turned. What's... problem, Commander?"

"Report altitude and distance."

"Altitude one kil... tance four... edge of biome."

"Stay at four" -- he glanced at Maya who shrugged momentarily, then nodded -- "and land, but slowly and cautiously. We suspect there may be a force field over the biome. Await further orders. Repeat copy."

"Land care...ly at four kilo... distance and await orders, copied."

John looked at the team. "What now? If there is a force field over there too, would it also be patterned, or unpatterned?"

Maya answered immediately. "If they created an induced mirror field, it may be shaped differently, but it would still be patterned."

"Patterned and unpatterned are two completely different types of fields?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"So they can approach in moonbuggies, at a slower speed as they get close to the edge of the biome, and see if they hit something."

"It will work. There may be some visible discontinuity in the planet's surface at the outer edge of the field as well."

As the Commander relayed new orders, something new started happening.

Birds about halfway between blackbirds and crows in size and appearance began circling, chattering at them, sometimes getting close.

"Cra'eelor. Cold'birds," Maya said casually. "Noisy, not very powerful yet still aggressive at times, adapted to cold, sometimes stupid and sometimes clever. Yet they have found passage to sixteens of worlds near us."

"Can they be dangerous?"

"They will sometimes attack in... mobs. More irritating, though they can sometimes injure."

"Great. Silent planet except for pesky birds," Tony said. As if on cue, the birds went silent and flew off.

Only the resumed silence was soon broken by something. It was a fast-building sound, like wires vibrating in a strong wind, then almost instantly turned eerily like the grating sound on Piri. The force field under them glowed briefly, and they felt a slight shake. All transpired quickly, and all leapt up in the air a little, except Maya, who then looked at them sheepishly.

"What the hell was that?" Tony asked into the sudden silence, then turning to Maya, having seen she didn't seem that surprised by it.

"I forgot to mention the shedding. I did not think to hypothesize its behavior on such an enormous force field."

"Shedding?"

"Patterned force'fields can only be kept stable by allowing the outer layer to... evaporate at intervals, replaced with new layers from deeper. Layers are generated in the middle of the field, and migrate outwards, to eventually shed. Highly metastable."

"You didn't jump," Alex said with irritation.

"When the noise started, I remembered the behavior."

"Is it dangerous?" Koenig asked.

"No. Part of why the layers are so thin and so many."

The commander again: "How often?"

"I don't know the equations of this field. I have never known one on this scale."

"Guess."

"Given the signs we just saw, estimate quarter hour to several hours. They will be regular intervals. Once it happens again--"

"Right," Verdeschi said, bringing up his stopwatch and hitting some buttons.

Great, Alexander thought. Coldbirds, onion-layer force fields shedding noisily, and a smart Psychon who forgot part of her probably-grade-school physics course. He then found himself a little surprised when he felt regret about the last part of his thought, thinking, Don't be so hard on her. She's only human. He almost chuckled. Maybe not human, but in many ways she did seem human. No one had said she had perfectly-instantaneous recall about everything, either. Just like anyone else, her skills seemed to vary by subject, though in some mental talents, she did seem quite alien.

That, and her most utterly bizarre and unwelcome power. For a person -- okay, she's a person at least -- to change her form into something other living being? Part of him wanted to see that, while part of him thought he'd be better off not, if he wanted to continue starting to think of her as almost human -- a person. If she turned into some creature, that would be harder, he thought. Still, as he looked around at the immensity of the city, the size of the Bridge, recalled the vagueness of the poems, and considered the potential for danger, he thought it would be likely he would see a demonstration of the metamorph's talent for molecular transformation -- for better or worse.

So he kept looking around the city, to distract himself from thoughts about the strangely compelling alien and to the unabashedly compelling alien city all around him. Skyscrapers climbed on two sides of the "park" -- making them all seem so tiny. He could hear occasional wind, but did not feel much of it, so he suspected it would be windier up in the loftier heights of the buildings. The bridge, though not entirely visible in a gap between somewhat lower buildings, was a thing of beauty, with a metaphor both human and alien, hints of suspension bridge yet squared off with lots of beam work at the top.

At the sounds of motors, he looked as Tony brought down the moonbuggy.

"Right," the Commander said. "We've landed successfully but a little far from the bridge." He took out his commlock, and called up to Flight 4, the support flight.

R-395 DAB 0930-1000: Quick Delivery

Alibe, sitting in the co-pilot seat of the Transporter Eagle of Flight 4, the Support flight, sat quietly, in a temporarily lull. She didn't know how to fly, but the leader of the team was in the pilot's seat, so having both up front during initial approach during this mission made a lot of sense. She would move to work from the pod once everyone was settled.

"Flight... to Flight 4.... ight 1 to Flight 4."

"Flight 4, Alibe here, Commander," she said, wondering where the static was coming from.

"We... ill need the... uggy you are carrying. Deploy a comm... in your current orbit so... down temporarily."

"Eagle 1, confirm you requested us to come down briefly to delivery moonbuggy, and to deploy our commsat. We have some interference."

"Confirmed. And cop... interference."

She looked at the pilot, who nodded and said, "Ten minutes to our optimal de-orbit point. ETA 15."

"Commander, confirmation received. Our ETA is 15. Repeat, Estimated Time of Arrival, fifteen minutes."

"Good. Careful on the landing. Massive... force field over the city. 30 centimeters thick lay... ver ground; but radar penetrates. Land... top."

Alibe looked at the pilot, incredulously. "Did he just tell us you have to land on top of a force field?"

"I think so. A foot thick but the radar penetrates, so I have to land at the one-foot level."

"Flight 1 from Flight 4. Understanding is we have to land one foot higher than the radar return due to force field."

"Confirmed."

The pilot began computing a new course, while she began trying to seek out the source of the interference.

Fifteen minutes later, they were landing.

"Sure enough," the pilot said. "Radar says we're thirty centimeters in the air."

A few minutes later, the pilot was lowering the moonbuggy out of the back section of the Eagle, behind the pod but forward of the engine compartment. She took a brief look at what was a very impressive city, but Maya soon approached, to talk about the interference.

Alibe had scarcely interacted with Maya. Besides an initial meeting and some passing greetings in hallways and once in a gym, it had just been a little bit during one short training session Sandra suddenly couldn't attend.

The moment Alibe had stepped onto the Moonbase, almost two years ago now, she held felt a comfortable multi-racial atmosphere. It wasn't people trying to put racism behind them. It was people not really caring about race. The residual attitudes of Earth, themselves mostly fading in the dozen years since the last war, were even more absent in the space program. No one tolerated intolerance in multi-national installations such as Alpha.

Unfortunately, from what Alibe had heard, this didn't leave Maya immune from being confronted with a degree of xenophobia, especially given her more unusual abilities, which had unnerved Alibe a little on hearing about them.

It seemed that even if one challenge was almost solved, a new one appeared. Fortunately, Alibe's initial shock on hearing about Alpha's alien had faded quickly as it became clear Maya meant no harm. Bokessu had not given her any detail, but the impression she had gotten from him was he had no concern about her and had been more concerned about others.

Now, the two women simply discussed the interference.

"I noticed some indistinct signs technological patterns as we approached Kaskalon," Maya was saying, "and the Commander and Tony noticed that many of the smaller buildings do not resolve well."

"Could it be the force field?"

"Patterned force fields can be phased to create interference at almost any frequency, if the technology is advanced enough."

"Can the interference be created in other ways as well?"

"Yes. I don't have any scanner here to sense the difference, even indirectly."

"Do you think I can separate anything from orbit?"

"Possible, perhaps."

"Well, even on an Eagle, I have a lot of programs to try sorting out interference, and I only just started checking."

Maya nodded, but was squinting a bit.

Alibe looked around, wondering why. Everything had a bit of a blue hue, from the Alkinarda Veil and Shepherd stars. Partly risen, it was not as bright as a day on Earth -- and wouldn't get there even once fully risen. The blue light sources didn't bother Alibe, but Maya seemed to--

"Alibe?"

"Yes, Commander?" she said as he approached.

"Any idea about this interference?"

"Nothing, yet. I only just started analyzing it."

"Okay, keep me apprised, especially if it worsens. I have a feeling this may be one reason why this world is rumored to be uninhabitable."

"Yes, Commander."

"Maya, over here. There's something at the approach to the bridge that you can see through the binoculars from here...."

They walked away to get a better view, and Alibe finally looked at the bridge, and more of a look at the city. Under blue light, even if only moderately lit, the city sparkled gorgeously. The bridge was partially visible between two buildings. They were about a kilometer away, and as she turned about, she was startled at how tall some of the buildings were in the opposite direction. It didn't look like any human city, yet it was not as exotically strange as some of the alien ones she had seen in pictures.

Still, it was breathtaking. This was the first alien world she had stepped onto, even if only momentarily. On Alpha, she was not in a prime shift, and though this was a support role only, she was glad to have had the opportunity.

Before Breakaway, despite rapid progress in space exploration, visiting other star systems had not seemed like anything she would ever do. To go from a war-torn African nation to walking on the surface of another planet, or more accurately on a force field covering the surface of another planet, in another galaxy, and working, however briefly in this instance, with a being from yet another alien planet, and she suddenly really felt what she already knew, that her life was different now.

"Alibe?" It was the second time her name had been called. It was time to leave. Their delivery was complete. She reached the foot of the stairs, but turned around to let her eyes sweep one more time over the glittering, blue-hued vista, a moment she would never forget, and would tell her eventual children and grandchildren, she hoped.

Then she quietly turned around and went back up the stairs, her mind already starting to shift back to wondering what to try next to find out about the interference.

She called up a computer program to record comm array readings as they climbed back to orbit. She didn't immediately get to collate the information, as Flight 2 called in.

R-395 DAB 0915-0940: Rotting Cities in Desert

Patrick Osgood found it an immediately depressing sight.

"Rotting cities indeed," Carl van der Mir uttered, practically echoing Patrick's thoughts.

Kilometer after kilometer of building remains. No tall tower was intact. Most appeared collapsed. Intact windows were rare. They looked like monuments to a lost age, more than ancient buildings. Through binoculars, it appeared heaps of debris lay at the feet of most of the buildings.

They went on for a huge distance. This city was not any smaller than Glasscit, and also sat in an even cooler desert, hovering around freezing, but it lacked a river flowing through it.

Under the not very bright, orange-red light of the planet's true star, everything looked like rust, yet age-blackened at the same time.

Patrick Osgood was technically in charge of the whole of Flight 2, but it had always been planned that the three Eagles would each take a different city.

Somewhere else on the planet was Sanderson's Survey Team, as well as a second pre-existing survey team. Osgood's immediate team, however, was specially assembled for this mission, including van der Mir, who would focus the most on any technological finds.

It didn't look promising to Patrick.

He checked with Sanderson and the other team lead, and they both reported similar findings so far. Sanderson sounded a little irritated. Then again, when doesn't he?

Patrick's team had not been able to find a clearing within the city, and debris had littered the closest few hundred meters. Scouting from the air had made it clear moonbuggies would be little use here, though Sanderson made a point of stating his team had found a minor passage.

Fortunately, the pilot spotted an area where the debris was not stacked high at all, where they could probably walk over it, and had landed closest to it, though it would still be a ten minute walk.

He called in status to Flight 4, then they started walking towards the ancient, ruined city. Ten minutes later, they were carefully picking their way over a mound of material. Anything sharp had apparently long since rusted away or something. It was just an awkward surface.

Looking around, it still seemed the best spot to enter this city.

No one took notice of another object, a kilometer away, which though resembling more debris from the city, was not truly such at all.

R-395 DAB 1010-1140: A Bridge of Power?

With the second moonbuggy delivered, they moved out, Karedepoulos with Koenig, and Maya with Tony. They moved in parallel towards the bridge.

There were tiny bits of alien script on some buildings, made out of what seemed to be a lot of individual characters, midway in complexity between Latin and Chinese, like they had an alphabet of one or two hundred characters. John couldn't read it. He pointed it out to Maya, and she called out that there was too little yet to trigger a response one way or another.

They passed the last buildings, traveling on -- or technically over, given the force field -- a street, before reaching the immensely wide main road approaching the bridge. There were no light signal poles, lane markers, or general travel signs. There was not a speck of dirt on top of the force field either. Maybe the shield's 'shedding' did something about that.

The moonbuggy ambled its way towards the impressive bridge, underneath some seemingly decorative metal beams. It was difficult to guess what might have traveled these routes. Despite the presence of this road and "streets" between the buildings, it did not seem to be a city designed for large numbers of ground vehicles. Maybe most cars were aircars but some were still strictly ground cars. Or maybe the streets were more for walking, biking, or short-distance vehicles, and some wider roads and the bridge kept for historical reasons.

It did not jibe well with the bridge being what the Alphans were now speculating was the legendary 'bridge of power' -- but they had nothing else to go on yet.

There was other signage here and there, mostly on or near the buildings, rather than the roads. Finally, just before the bridge, Maya stated that she recognized the language.

"877.4, variant 0. No common name that I know."

John was relieved, then irritated as the coldbirds began flying about again. They weren't mobbing yet, but it seemed they would get truly annoying at some point.

They reached the point on the road closest to the low structure serving as one of the anchorage points for the main suspension cables on this side of the bridge, and they all got out of the two moonbuggies and took the walk to the building. It was bristling with antenna-like structures, and was one of the reasons John had noticed it in binoculars before and pointed it out to Maya. Why an anchorage point was a structure with antennae was puzzling. At the time, she had stated she thought they could be for any number of purposes. They walked around the building, noting it was covered with writings.

"Most appear to be bureaucratic in nature. Some personal names, such as Zykorlae~adraksor. Here is a poem."

Bridge and base, here is an old anchorage.
Ancestral steps we walk and treagor.
Driven we were, fly we now, fight we must.
Metal must never turn to rust or dust,
or in forgetfulness we shall lose our way and life.
Anchors of ages, we stand resolute.

"Sounds like the rest of the poems," Tony stated.

"No," Maya responded. "Its tone is different. It uses 'we' a lot. It is more personal, less detached. Many of the rest of these are even more divergent. This long thing here-" she reached her hand out, almost carelessly at first, then quickly slowed it and pressed against the force field, which was covering everything. "This looks like a re-dedication statement, talking about preserving legacy. The rest, including the one I read, seem like supporting statements."

"Like they commissioned some poets."

"Or children, for a few of these," Maya stated, with a gentle smile.

"Anything about it being a bridge of power?" John asked.

"No, nothing like that."

"Alexander?"

He paused in his picture-taking. "It is a strange combination of classic suspension and box girder, though the latter doesn't entirely seem to fit either. This building here is quite recognizable as an anchorage point, however. Given that this bridge is more like two bridges, I'd expect seven other anchorages for the main cables."

"Why dedications and poetry on the outside of this?" John asked.

"Maybe this is the most approachable anchorage point, or maybe they repeat on others, or have other statements. The anchorage points on that large rock outcropping in the center of the river seem much more inaccessible."

"These people were not much for signage separate from their structures," Tony added separately.

Just then, the strange rumbling, twanging, almost grating sound occurred again, the enormous, city-wide force field 'shedding' a layer again. Force field physics on an immense scale.

"Well, now we know the interval," Tony said, setting his watch.

They resumed their journey, returning to the moonbuggies and driving them up the gentle grade and onto the bridge itself -- or at least on the force field covering the bridge.

Yet there was little to see, at least at first glance. Some cables had a little writing, but Maya was puzzled, saying they were random words.

Alexander continued taking photographs, while also looking all around, at the bridge and each of the two halves of the city.

Maya had taken out her multi-scanner and was using it to look for signs of technology, but when John looked over and she noticed, she shook her head. Nothing so far.

The coldbirds were fluttering about, squawking or cackling at them with irritated sounds, some occasionally making rapid flight adjustments, as there was more wind here, carrying an even plainer but sweater smell -- unsalted water. At this point on the bridge, the wind's current direction gave it a long fetch over the river before reaching the Alphans.

Tony didn't seem to be noticing, as he looked for anything distinctly different.

John was trying to form an impression of this part of the puzzle. A huge bridge with various writings on it, covered with the same alien force field. The latter made John pause in his thoughts, fascinated for a moment at how he seemed to be driving on thin air.

They reached the central rock, over which the road traveled. There were structures here, off either edge of the roadway. These structures had the names of architects and builders, and nothing more. The omni-present force field covered them too.

They moved on, not expecting anything on the other half of the bridge, a whole bridge onto itself. It was more of the same. The sense of grandeur was impressive, but there were no answers on first sweep.

The anchorages at the far end of the double bridge were equally unrevealing.

"Maya, fly around this bridge, see if you can't spot something useful."

"Yes, Commander."

Alexander Karedepoulos watched in amazement as he got his first sight of the metamorph practicing her art, transforming into a falcon.

"Wow," he finally said after she took off, head into open air, then turn to parallel one side of the bridge.

"Yeah, my reaction wasn't much different," Tony said.

"Tony, Alexander, while she's doing that, you two start heading back up the bridge, more slowly, and look for anything more unusual about this bridge's design. I'll scan this city more carefully with binoculars and keep an eye out for Maya as well."

One thing that suddenly struck John was the total lack of vehicles of any kind. It wasn't just that the streets had no cars on them. They simply seemed to be altogether lacking. Maybe they had taken every vehicle with them when they left. Maybe they had instant transporters. The bridge was a museum piece. Dr. Conway had mentioned Maya stated Psychons kept a tiny quantity of somewhat human-style nuclear reactors as active museum pieces to remind them of older technologies, given that if/when they needed nuclear reactions, they had other means of generating them. This city seemed to be keeping the bridge as a museum piece. Everything on it was historical. Its very presence seemed to be as an impressive monument to past technologies, past needs.

He silently recalled the end of the Introduction poem: the frozen city of old, / the key to safe passage, / a city and its opposite, / one of need, one of past. Right now, the city seemed to be the 'one of past' -- yet the 'frozen city' was followed so immediately by mention of the key. He reminded himself they'd barely arrived. That reminded him of the time, and sure enough, it was time for another layer to be shed by the force field in two minutes. What was the purpose of preserving all of this?

The words here spoke of a history-conscious people. Yet they had let all the other cities 'rot' in the desert. The poem the Alphans had dubbed The Details, the most erratic of the set Maya had recalled, had another phrase of interest, that he also recalled from memory: Locked museums stand; / noise, static, dynamic.

Locked was a good word for this city. Noise was present in the form of the shedding and the birds. Static was present on the commlines. What was dynamic? The birds again -- but that was it so far.

Locked... birds.... That reminded him of Flight 5. He took out his commlock.

"Flight 1 to Flight 4, Koenig here, give me a sitrep on all Flights."

The interference was still present, seemingly no more or less than before, but he eventually got the information. Flight 2's three Eagles had landed at or near their separate ruined cities, and were just starting to pick their way in, with nothing more than minor finds. Not surprisingly, there was no shield over any of those cities. Flight 3's three teams of paired hauler and spotter Eagles were having trouble welding or drilling into the alien alloys floating in space, the remains of a presumed space station. Flight 4 itself was nominal. Flight 5, the single Eagle, had landed away from the biome and their moonbuggy was approaching the outer edge of it.

Just as he disconnected, he heard a distant screeching sound. He had been keeping an eye on Maya/falcon, and the coldbirds that had seemed startled and scared by her transformation were now starting to follow her a little. At the sound of the screech, the other birds seemed to back off some. The falcon was distinctly larger than the coldbirds, and John already knew Maya was not afraid to use talons if she felt the need.

She was at the higher reaches of the bridge, flying about the outside of the upper reaches, and had been for some time. Abruptly, she wheeled away, dove down towards John, picking up speed, then making a large-diameter turn about his head to shed some speed. She seemed to flap about nervously a couple feet above the ground, as if fighting instincts to land on the ground with orders to land 'above' the ground, given the invisible force field. Eventually, she figured it out, alighted, and reverted. Seeing it outside of the context of her ill-chosen greeting, or her fighting him to get to her father, or his being so casual when she turned into the falcon a short time ago, it suddenly struck him how it was simply an amazing ability. He had been caught at a moment where he wasn't shocked, or angry, in struggle, or in thinking command needs.

As she stood, she seemed to pick up on it, and smile a bit, only to quickly quash it, as if remembering that she had had that same playful smile upon changing from a lioness and greeting him.

"No, no, Maya. I told you to forget the lioness. It is a remarkable talent you have." She seemed shy about the compliment, but did smile a little, squinting a bit, however, before turning very serious and reporting she had seen little. "I'm still thinking through the impressions from when I was a bird. It is a smart creature in a way, giving me space to think a little, but most went into my memory to consider now."

How that all came naturally to her, seemingly.... Then again, she did have to practice....

"That's fine," John said. "I'll let you do that, while we get into the moonbuggy and head back to where Tony and Alex are."

"Yes, I saw them there. Have they found anything?"

"I don't know yet. Let's find out."

She squinted again as she got into the moonbuggy, but he missed that, really starting to wonder what Flight 5 might find at the biological area....

R-395 DAB 1150-1220: Booming Biome

The small Flight 5 team approached Kaskalon's biological preserve, now thought to possibly be force field protected. Bill Fraser drove the moonbuggy and his two passengers across a desolate plain, toward the lush area of growth still a kilometer away. Most of the Alkinarda had set except the weird, swirly portion and a couple of the blue Shepherd stars. Red Sun was not much higher. They only had time for an initial foray, to confirm the presence and penetrability of a force field, then most likely return to the Eagle to shelter for the night. Previous plans had been for the Eagle to be perhaps settled in the biome itself and some initial biological survey made. That plan was dust in the cold desert.

Suddenly, Bill pulled to a stop, and looked at Lena, and saw the same thing register on her face. She looked at him, and said, "Thunder?"

"There are clouds in there," commented Pedro Gutierez, the zoologist. "I don't think that is what is causing the thunder, though."

They pushed on, more and more slowly, halving the distance before he stopped again.

It was not thunder. The wind was stronger here, but erratic, sometimes rushing one way, sometimes another, sometimes swirling around. The wind was not the source of the strange noise, however. The sounds were more like a heavy pallet shifting within a violently moving cargo trailer, thudding against one wall and then another, echoing inside, but heard from a moderate distance. Almost like thunder, yet different.

They approached closer. When the random booms sounded far louder than the moonbuggy, the wind was stronger than almost anything Bill had felt before, and the sandstone seemed to be almost glassy a hundred meters ahead, he stopped again, and got out of the moonbuggy, as did the other two.

"What is that?" Lena said.

Here, the wind was not changing chaotically, but alternating between rushing past their faces, to rushing from behind them. Even Lena's relatively short hair was getting in her face at the latter. The interval was erratic, and the amount of wind and noise varied from a little to a lot.

Bill looked about, and found a moderate but still tossable rock, then walked forward cautiously, Lena following behind, Pedro staying near the buggy, apparently wanting nothing to do with this strange phenomenon.

A dark bird about halfway in size between a crow and a magpie started pestering them, then another, even though they were buffeted a little by the wind.

The birds held back, though, as Bill went forward as far as he dared, until the hairs on his neck were almost standing up despite the wind sometimes rushing against the back of his neck, and he was only ten meters beyond the glassy area. He tossed the rock forward as hard as he could, for the "glass" was hundreds of meters wide.

It hit the glassy area, bounced a couple times, and slid even further until friction brought it to a halt, blocks away, maybe more than two-thirds of the way across the glassy band. Bill backed up to stand at about the same distance as Lena, Pedro still near the Moonbuggy, but now several steps in front of it, with an expression that Bill now realized was actually somewhat relaxed but in no hurry to approach. A mix of typical first-mission nerves and bravado, Bill realized.

Then, just as the wind ceased, the rock started moving again, forward, a little, sliding a third of the way back across the "glass." There was a little puff of wind that followed across their faces. The wind retreated and reversed, again mild. Suddenly, the rock jerked, and slid fast across the glass, then suddenly started rolling when it hit the sandstone. He and Lena parted as it rolled past them, jumping into the air, at the same time a stronger blast of wind hit their faces. The rock came to rest just meters from the moonbuggy, almost at Pedro's feet.

"Right, force field," Bill concluded.

"It's like it is boiling or something," Lena commented.

More dark birds started pestering them.

"Hey," the Pedro said, joining Bill and Lena, "look over there at these crazy birds. They're flying right through the force field. One right here too. It must let life forms through." He walked right past Bill and Lena.

"Wait!" Bill said, but Pedro didn't stop, just slowed, extending his hand over the glassy area. Before Bill could do anything, the man yelped, pulled his hand back, and retreated, holding his wrist, as a blast of wind rushed by them all again. The other two followed, back towards the buggy.

"Damn, I think it's broke."

"Wrist or hand?" Bill asked.

"Both, maybe. No, mostly the wrist. It was like my hand was hit by a wall."

"Great, what kind of move was that?" Lena said.

"Too anxious to get to the other side."

"Hmpphhh, right," Lena replied. "Chicken crossing the road."

"Hey--" Pedro started.

"Okay, enough," Bill said, suddenly recalling some second-hand information about Lena, from Annie, that Andreichi did not suffer foolish actions gladly. Or quietly, Bill was finding out. Still, it was annoying, and though not military like Alan, Bill also felt Alan's training dictate some need to reinforce points about chain of command and responsibility. "Chalk up one injury, on my watch. And you're the paramedic. Lena?"

"Just first aid."

"Same here," Bill said with mild irritation.

"Sorry, Mr. Fraser. Should have waited for orders. Lena, get a cold pack from the kit."

Bill gave a mild nod, then let the military-like attitude go, giving a concerned look at the other man's wrist, which seemed to be swelling a little already. Lena was retrieving the first aid kit from the other side of a panel of the moonbuggy. She broke out a cold pack, got it mixing, and handed it to Pedro.

The booming in their ears, the strong wind, the strange birds, and the injury prompted Bill to order them back into the moonbuggy to retreat far enough to get away from the noise of the varying force field and its resulting wind, in part to be able to report in. He stopped at the point the zoologist's groans of pain got louder than the alien noises. The birds had followed.

Lena then got out, still holding the first aid kit, asked about allergies, and on receiving a negative, broke out a pain reliever. "I probably shouldn't give this to you. Let you learn a lesson about foolishness."

"Some bedside manner you have. Just give that to me." When Lena just looked at him, he changed his tone. "Okay, I'm an idiot. Is that what you wanted to hear? It won't happen again, believe me."

"Fine, lesson learned," she said, smiling very nicely as she finally proceeded to give Pedro the pain killer, while Bill almost chuckled, despite himself. No wonder Tony and she had dated -- and broken up. Something compelling yet repelling about Lena at the same time.

"We'll have to deal with it back at the Eagle," Lena said.

As Pedro started instructing Lena on creating a makeshift sling, Bill made a call. "Flight Five to Flight Four...." Though he called into the support flight, he immediately requested they patch in to the Commander. He needed to hear this report directly.

After a pause: "Koen... here. Report, Fraser."

Bill was going to report the injury first, yet the question about what to do about that was somewhat tied with the question of how to proceed given verification of a shield: They could abandon the site and take Pedro to the Rescue Eagle, which had docking capability; or they could remain for the Rescue Eagle to come down and pick up the injured paramedic while Flight 1 considered the next move for Flight 5.

"There is a force field here, repeat, a huge force field. It moves, varying every few seconds, expanding and contracting by hundreds of meters, creating booming noises from up close, and a strong wind moving back and forth. Probably a dome rapidly varying a little in size. It also appears to have ground the sandstone into glass somehow, in a giant arc that goes on for a long distance, and probably rings the whole biome. Just beyond the inside arc of the glassy ring, there is a lot of life, including black birds which seem to be able to move freely through the force field. However, one of my party tested this and injured his wrist. It won't let us through. Should I call in Flight 4's Rescue Eagle to land here, or should I take off, return to orbit and rendezvous with it up there?"

"Didn't copy... injury. Repeat injury."

"Wrist. Sprained or broken wrist, not sure which."

"Dislocated," the zoologist stated.

"Dislocated wrist," Bill relayed.

"Cop... -cated wrist. We're ...ing Rescue... down for extract... casualty. The rest... remain... your Eagle on planet... we assess next...."

Bill made his reply more repititious, to make sure it got through. "Copied wait for extraction. Wait for extraction of injured. Rest will remain on planet. Lena and I will remain for new orders. Standing by."

"Confir...."

A bird divebombed Bill, as he put away his commlock. Then another bird, chattering away, divebombed Lena.

"A cold desert, lush landscape inside an unstable force field, stupid birds, and static," Lena verbally compiled. "So far this planet is just plain annoying," she summarized.

"Frustrating is more like it," Pedro said. "Already painfully frustrating. A city at one magnetic pole and a huge, rich biological enclave at the other. Great settlement opportunity, and we can't crack it -- at least not at this end."

"Maybe the city is more promising," Bill commented. He looked for Red Sun, but could not find it. The sky outside the biome was cloudless, the sun had seemingly set, and the sky was already starting to turn darker.

R-395 DAB 1220-1250: Skeleton

John disconnected from the report. Someone injured already, apparently needlessly, but at least not seriously.

Then he noticed Maya squinting again. The Alkinarda was now fully risen, covering almost horizon to horizon in all directions, blue giant stars a few tens of light years away but bright points. The overall effect was still not like full daylight on earth. Either Maya was not used to being out of indoor areas, or....

"Maya, is something wrong with your eyes?"

"The blue light sources above are not pleasant. Blue sky is beautiful, and this is in its own way, but it is a little too much -- but I'll be okay."

"Tony, aren't there some protective sunglasses in one of the moonbuggies?"

Sure enough, Tony found them. Maya seemed hesitant for a moment, surprisingly; but when she put them on, John suddenly had a guess why. They covered her very human-looking eyes, but left her very non-human eyebrows in full view. She'd never tried to hide the latter, but perhaps now covering her eyes had given her pause. After a look around -- Alexander was giving her a curious look -- but neither Tony nor John reacted, she seemed to get over it, and thanked them.

That over, the search resumed.

This time, they did take a closer look at more of the details of the double bridge as they moved more slowly over it. There were more writings, but all seemed historical rather than of immediate use.

They made another discovery as well. Wedged in sheltered spot was a human or humanoid skeleton, facing west over the river. It was a somewhat short but otherwise typical-looking skeleton, with a skull that looked likewise typical, as far as they could tell. The bridge, being in the middle of the city, meant more panoramic views for someone who had apparently sat down here to die.

The bones looked more ancient than the city itself. Nothing else remained, not even a hint of rotted clothing. It had probably been here for centuries if not millennia.

"How could he have remained here for so long in what could often be a windy location?"

"I think it was a female," Maya said. "There is metal gridding all around except above her." She reached out and pressed her hand against the invisible force field. "Surrounded. Sheltered."

"Short enough to let her climb in and out, but high enough to shelter her," Tony said.

"A final view," Alexander stated.

"Maybe she was left here after failing to figure this out," Tony speculated as he kept studying the scene.

John noticed Maya blanch a little.

"If true, that would have been barbaric," John stated, not even directly at Maya, though it was for her benefit.

"Definitely," Tony said absently without even noticing, instead finding.... "Hmmm, look here in this corner of her shelter."

There was a random piece of metal, unassociated with the bridge, sitting on top of the force field, near one of the skeleton's feet. It had a number of lines of unfamiliar text etched onto it. By what, was unclear; if there had been a tool, it had either disintegrated before the skeleton, thrown away by the alien, or had been retrieved by other aliens.

"Maya?"

She looked over the plate, then said, "The language could be familiar; but I will have to let the recognition come, if there is any."

Alexander, charged with doing more of the photography, took pictures of the metal plate, the skeleton, and its location.

They then resumed, more quietly, John already thinking they perhaps should remove the skeleton and give it a burial, though again, as with alien bodies left on the Moon from destroyed ships, it was impossible to guess at burial rituals.

They turned away from the skeleton, and Alexander pointed out something he'd been wondering about. There were small blocks -- extra bulges -- attached to various parts of the bridge. Each block seemed to have a panel. There was no sign of how -- or even if -- they could be opened, and they could have just as easily been sunk-in design patterns pleasing to alien eyes.

Maya scanned it, and said she couldn't discern anything.

"Oh, I recognize the language on the metal plate. 917.3 variant 3, no common name known. The words are strangely patterned, so I will have to rework them some to make sense. 'I sit here alone, as my ship had to flee. Bridge World kept its secret. Pointless bridge of power with no control. Ship fled attackers. Probably no chance getting all the way around the Alk^inharda in time to safety. Even attackers bypassed planet. Understandable. Unsettled. Metalworking tool's energy dying. Last words, to my family, somewhere still I hope: peace, growth, happiness. Whoever finds me, if not of my people, leave me here. City of beauty. City of death. City of beauty again. My name is Rodolono Quarbragta of the Seqbryziu Itriza of....' The statement stopped there, Commander."

They walked back to the remains, paused a moment, and then the Commander quietly said, "Rest in Peace, Rodolono Quarbragta."

After another moment, they moved away.

"Couldn't have gone well for her ship that no one ever returned here for her or her body," Tony commented.

"City of Death," Maya said. "I've never heard it called that before."

Tony shook his head. "'City of beauty. City of death. City of beauty again.' First impression: beauty. Then realizes she's going to die here. Then resigns herself and finds the beauty again?"

"Seems possible," Maya said.

"Flight 4 to Flight 1. Fli... 4 to Fligh...." It was Alibe's voice from aboard the support flight in orbit.

"Flight 1, Koenig here."

"Flight 2 report... tried using lasers to cut past obstruction, but laser... on't work."

"None of them?"

"...egative. All three Flight 2 teams report same."

Tony looked concerned, and pulled out his own laser, giving John a questioning look. John nodded. Tony took aim between two bridge girders. Nothing happened. Tony shook his head.

"Same results here. What about the Combat Eagle? Have them take a test shot in open space."

"I... ill check." There was a pause. "They were able to... this. Repeat, able to fire."

"Okay, spread the word about these facts and the difference. Anything else?"

"No other news."

"Okay, Koenig out." He turned to Maya. "What could do this? Same thing as the communications interference?"

"Unlikely to be same proximate cause, but the root cause could be the same: still-active technology. This new problem could be a form of dampening field. I currently have nothing to detect those, even indirectly."

"At some point, you said patterned force fields could have interference patterns embedded."

"Those are fully embedded. Visual, infrared, ultraviolet, all contained. In fact, if the technology or technologies creating the communications interference and the dampening field are below the force field, the force field must be transparent to them.

"Or partially transparent," John suddenly thought. "Maybe that is why the communication interference is sporadic."

"Commander, that is very possible indeed," Maya said, looking impressed.

Tony jumped in. "I'm beginning to think why no one settled this world is because the shields become more and more transparent to the interference which can create more and more problems, maybe some we've not seen yet."

Alexander added: "Rodolono wrote that her metal-working tool was dying. Maybe that wasn't interfered with at first, but later was."

"If it starts with light communications interference, then later gets heavier, then interferes with other systems, and was already totally interfering with dense-energy forms like lasers."

"Should we pull Flight 2 out of here? Or Flight 5?" Tony asked.

"Nooo... not yet. First, we just brainstormed one possibility. Second, if so, there has to be plenty of escalating warning, and plenty of time, that almost everyone found the key or abandoned the search, or we'd probably be seeing more remains of ships or people around here. Alibe is already watching the communications interference. I'll alert her to our hypothesis."

After he did so, he asked if anyone else had thought something stood out in the alien's last words.

"Pointless Bridge of Power with no control," Tony said, flatly. "I don't know exactly what she would have meant by that, but it does not sound promising."

"The controls may just be difficult to find, and this was the only bridge around."

"True. Her group was under the press of attack, which we're fortunately lacking," Tony said.

"Her language was structurally very different from that of the legends and the writings here in the city. Maybe the poems and legends were even more vague to them than to us."

Tony laughed slightly, ironically, and then, more grimly, said, "I can see where that could prove fatal."

They resumed their search, but each of them looked more frequently to the city as the hours passed and part of the Alkinarda began setting and Red Sun rose. The bridge was a central feature, but maybe there were more in the giant city....

R-395 DAB 1220-1240: New Signs in Fading Light

As Flight 5 awaited the Rescue Eagle from Flight 4 to arrive, to pick up Pedro Gutierez for treatment of his injured wrist, Bill Fraser broke out the binoculars and scanned the biome. Dense jungle indeed, Bill thought. There were other birds inside the biome, but the black birds seemed ubiquitous. As he scanned to the left, he could tell that despite the apparent ability of the latter to escape any part of the shield they wanted, that most he could see were streaming back and forth at one area that they could see. So he followed their trail, and found what appeared to be a roosting or nesting ground, on the flat outside the shield.

Flight 4 had just finished relaying some mundane information while they waited, including that the apparently-same species of pesky black birds were present in the city too -- despite the apparent lack of food sources -- and were called "coldbirds." It was a strange-sounding name, and Bill wondered if it came from Maya. Yet it seemed an appropriate name: they seemed to prefer the cold to the warm jungle inside the shield. He shared his observations with the others.

"Probably have to go to the jungle to feed," the injured Pedro added in response.

"Curious system," Lena said. "Everything's inside a fairly solid shield, yet it lets these birds out to nest in their preferred temperatures. Are the coldbirds that critical to whomever set this up?"

Fraser absently shook his head in ignorance, even while still holding the binoculars. As he did so, a large dot came into view briefly. He stopped shaking his head, turning further in that direction until it came back into view, then magnified.

"Well..." Bill said, just as Pedro was starting to speculate on the coldbirds.

"What?" Lena said.

Just then, the sound of an approaching Eagle interrupted. Lena looked irritated, yet relieved that it had arrived for Pedro, and they both turned to the source, approaching from the direction opposite of the biome -- maybe 'biosphere' is a better word, he thought. He swung his binoculars up, and spotted the ship easily, its too-familiar but welcome red stripes plainly visible as turned to make its final approach. It turned on landing lights in these dusky red conditions. The party retreated into their own Eagle to avoid the coming switch from its partial anti-gravity glide to the burst of liftoff/landing rockets.

A minute later, the Rescue Eagle was settled, everyone went back outside, and Pedro was transferred to it. Security Guard Carson stepped towards Bill and Lena.

"On orders, transferring from standby on Flight 4 to active on Flight 5," he reported to Bill.

"Okay, Carson," Bill said. The person had changed, from a cross-trained zoologist/guard/paramedic to a guard/paramedic.

They re-boarded Bill's Eagle as the Rescue Eagle prepared to take off. Bill, meanwhile, went forward, and brought up the Eagle's telescopic camera, searching for the same signs as before, even in the dimming light. He could see more coldbirds, almost all of them heading away from the shield.

Andreichi rejoined him up front. "What is it?" she asked. "What did you see?"

Just then, he found... "That."

"Looks big."

"Rangefinder indicates it is five clicks away. Must be about twenty metres or more long."

"Ship?" Lena asked.

"I don't know. Could be a crashed ship, but it looks like a large rock outcropping in the flat. It is already too dark to see anything about it."

It was too cold to set up camp outside, and out of caution, Bill brought the Moonbuggy back to the rear of the Eagle to load it up, and soon, everything and everyone was on board the Eagle.

They hadn't been on the planet that long, and only a quarter of the planet's day was darkness, but their arrival had only allowed them time enough to verify the force field -- and suffer an injury finding out.

So they would get some initial rest. It would not pay to move them to another mission for a few hours only to leave them without any rest, so poor timing or not, they were settling in to eat, relax, and try sleeping. They would have to try adapting to the temporary schedule.

Bill thought about Annette. He was getting picked for more and more planetary missions, not just as a pilot but seemingly more as a small team leader. This would only add to Annie's worries, perhaps, yet she was increasingly showing more strength and adaptability. Strong emotion reaction followed not long after by strong recovery. What an amazing woman I married, he thought, and soon after slid off to sleep with a smile.

R-395 DAB 1250-1820: Ticking

Hours went by for Flight 1's crew, fruitlessly looking over the bridge. There were odd -- alien -- details in its finer points of construction, just as there were in some of its more obvious points, but it just seemed to be differences in alien architecture or aesthetics.

Eventually, John decided the should headed back to the Eagle, for a brief break, to check that none of its systems were showing signs of interference, get some more updates, and let current impressions settle a bit. Along the way, they looked at the city proper some more, in case they were missing something about it. A brief stop at one building proved the expected: it was covered with the ubiquitous force field, and quite inaccessible. The building's actual window panes were reflective, and revealed nothing of their contents. Every building seemed that way. It was no wonder the city gleamed in the blue light of the Alkinarda.

They could look at other buildings, and continued to do so as they took a longer way from the Bridge to the Eagle, but they could not touch.

Within an hour, they were heading towards the tallest skyscraper, to see if it held any secrets. However, it was untouchable as well, and other than a few proper names and an historical dedication, there was nothing in the way of information to be gleaned from its gleaming surface, even as more of the Alkinarda Complex continued setting.

They continued checking out other sites within this half of the city proper, temporarily dividing up, John and Alexander in one moonbuggy, and Tony and Maya in the other, to look for more signs away from the bridge. Two moonbuggies could not possibly cover this immensity of a city, but with little to go on from the double bridge, checking other parts of the city near it was starting to seem prudent.

John let Alexander pick out whatever buildings caught his curiosity, figuring that maybe an architect would notice, consciously or unconsciously, something of greater interest, even though the whole city was breathtaking and full of visual curiosities. Karedepoulos had a better chance of filtering out something more unique. Koenig, meanwhile, looked around at the ground level as they moved, hoping to notice something else.

Flight 2 had been on the planet for over six hours already, with little to show for it.

The fuse on Sanderson's always short patience was already somewhat exhausted. Tarnished metal and rock -- perhaps alien analogue to concrete -- lay everywhere. They were taking some scraps to the Eagle. Yet it all seemed useless. This wasn't searching for pristine resources, but digging through garbage. It was like he'd been assigned to rubbish duty all over again, like he had in punishment over the charges leveled against him.

It was also a colder location, and he was getting sweaty under his rather thick, heavy jacket, while the huge nebula -- he rather preferred the original Big Blue designation over the alien word Alkinarda -- dominated most of the southern sky and bled into some of the northern.

This particular Eagle in the split-up Flight 2 had landed pretty far north, but still well south of the extensive polar ice cap.

There wasn't even much in the way of technology left. Half of what looked like circuits turned to dust when they tried moving them, and what didn't looked pretty well gone anyway. On that particular front, they were mostly consigned to taking pictures and videotaping the evidence, stuff more Fraser's or Kander's expertise than Sanderson's.

There was a sameness to it all. Piles and piles of rubble. An occasional somewhat slightly more intact building stuck up higher, but none of that was saying much, for those looked on the edge of further collapse, and even Sanderson was leery of approaching too close.

Only the occasional dark bird flew about. He wondered what they ate around here. Even they didn't seem to linger, but seemed more purpose-bound, flying through the city more as a navigational waypoint or to alleviate whatever boredom a bird might feel.

If it did, he could certainly sympathize.

"I think we should switch off to a mineral survey," he finally said to Stevens. Cernik overheard and soon agreed. They called Eva over, and it didn't take much to convince her. His urge was to just do it, but that would not be accepted. He couldn't even just contact Koenig, at least not immediately. He had to go through Osgood, who would perhaps have to talk to Flight 4 first.

As diverting as it was to get off the grey Moon, this planet had little going for it either, and he much preferred the relative autonomy of his team's survey missions to this complicated mission.

He sighed, and contacted Patrick Osgood.

Alan was now helping attach anchorages to a piece of space station debris. He didn't really know welding well enough, but could handle a zero-gravity drill decently, though in this case, it was more in an assist role since it was a large, two-person drill.

The blue-lit portion of Kaskalon was "below" him now, as they orbited the somewhat featureless planet, with only ice, desert, one moderate oceans, smaller bodies of water, a few rivers, several grey and one gleaming city area, and the lighting. It looked like a dead world from space.

In his two-Eagle team of the three-team Flight 3, the pilot modules had been switched, to allow Alan and his co-pilot a break in the spotter's passenger pod, and now to do some EVA. They had tried various welding and drilling techniques, with only spotty success, but had finally stumbled on a method combining one drilling technique and one welding technique, for a hybrid join. The first of three anchorages was finally on this chunk of metal. This was going to take well over the hoped-for eight hours, but hopefully later pieces could be worked on faster. Time was ticking away, and Alan was impatient to get the first burn/haul started.

He looked back at the Hauler Eagle, well over a hundred meters away, its strange rig sticking out every which-way. It was all ready to go, but had nothing hooked up to it yet. He laughed at the thought of an Eagle impatient to fulfill its purpose. It was just a reflection of his impatience for it to do so.

He checked with the current pilot of the spotter Eagle, to find out if the new hybrid approach was working yet on the other two first-targeted chunks, and sure enough, it was. It was still not fast-going, especially moving about in microgravity.

They moved to attach the second anchorage. After this one, they'd swap teams, so that Alan would be in the Hauler Eagle, ready to go, as once the anchorages were in place, the chains would not take long to reel out and attach.

Greg Sanderson's fuse may have been getting short, but one fuse was failing to work. Or the fuse was, but the bomb wasn't. Or something.

In trying to get past one obstruction, Patrick Osgood found an explosive charge would not detonate. He had discovered the problem with the lasers, and rather than blast away by more risky means, he had accepted the suggestion to try finding a better point past the lengthy series of obstructions, to get further into the dead city. When none had been found soon enough, however, he had decided to try a charge, remote detonated, with the team a good distance away.

After it failed, they returned to the site, but not directly to the unexploded charge. Instead, he took out another fuse, had Carl van der Mir, the electrical engineer, check it out, then set it in place.

A few minutes later, they were at a safe distance to try.

It also failed.

He reported this to Flight 4, to pass onto the command Flight when it seemed best.

After that, he got a communication from Sanderson, making a request, a little gruffly yet sensibly....

John wasn't sure if Sanderson's request, relayed by Osgood, to switch one of Flight 2's teams to mineral hunting, was out of impatience or a sound suggestion. Conversing with Patrick, the two of them decided that Greg did have a point. Maya had thought legends suggested this was no longer a resource-rich planet outside the 'rotting' or 'frozen' cities, but diverting one Eagle from gathering to searching did make some sense nonetheless, and he informed Patrick he would consider the request for a few minutes.

That explosives were also apparently prevented from working was startling, given their principles were far different than the lasers. Maya didn't seem surprised.

"Highly concentrated disruption energy. Very different form, from very different technology. Yet similar result. I am not sure, but it seems possible the same dampening field is responsible."

They also got a report that someone in the third Eagle of Flight 2 had been scratched by a coldbird. The Rescue Eagle would come down for Dr. Mathias to check out the wound, just to be safe. The attacks seemed random in timing and intensity, but it was still noteworthy.

More coldbirds began flying around in this area, showing signs of wanting to approach again. Just what he didn't need, more of the pesky birds distracting them. A warning shot now and then perhaps would keep them away, but their lasers were inoperative.

If there was any team to switch to general Exploration, it was certainly Sanderson's, which had consistently proven itself the best team with the strongest instincts. Other than occasionally re-assigning one of them to another team for the duration of one 3- to 4-week mission, to spread around the expertise, Gorski and now Koenig had been loath to meddle with their success too much.

He gave the go-ahead, wishing in retrospect that they'd brought the mineralogist Dave Reilly with them as well.

His moment of regret was interrupted by Flight 4 was reporting an observation, from orbit, that a dust storm was arising on the other side of the planet.

"How large?"

Though the interference, the conversation took a little longer, but it was clear it was not a large system, but large enough to keep Flight 5 grounded near the biome, and force one Flight 2 team, namely Patrick Osgood's, to find shelter in a semi-intact building.

It wasn't a good sign about the state of the crumbling cities that Osgood swiftly insisted on a return to the Eagle instead.

"Then have them lift off for Glasscit and set down somewhere in the opposite side of the river from us, and start a general survey. Look for any signs of potential interest, at their discretion. Warn them about the force field and its noisy shedding behavior, if that has not already been done."

After his having to repeat a few bits, Alibe then asked about the remaining team of Flight 2.

"Leave that team in their city to continue searching."

Alibe asked if Osgood's team would return after the dust storm in their city abated, and John replied that would be decided later.

The signs had not looked promising for Flight 2. Virtually nothing in the way of movable technology had been found. The huge pieces were all unmovable and seemed to be in shambles. The moderate sized stuff all seemed to be missing, Sanderson suggesting it had already been salvaged by aliens. The small stuff that what remained in somewhat sheltered spots was so far gone it turned to dust when touched. Only a few bits of circuitry had been harvested, all in a state of almost as advanced decay as well. Most of the rest could only be photographed or filmed.

Otherwise, they had just been gathering pieces of metal alloys that could be moved. The Eagles had smaller winches that would allow them to move one larger piece each off the planet and back to the Moon, but compared to the potential hauls Flight 3 could make, that was paltry, and Flight 2's teams had just been picking up 2-40 kilogram samples that could be analyzed at leisure on Alpha.

Koenig returned his attention to the present. He and Karedepoulos were heading towards a new building, one that the latter commented was unusual for seeming like two buildings stacked on top of each other with a large gap in the middle, kind of like how the bridge was actually two bridges -- albeit the building had a gap in the middle except for beams and what might be a bundle of elevators, whereas the bridge had a rock in the middle, the road laid over the rock and beams above it.

John was hoping that at least one building would not be shield covered, and would lead to whatever the 'key' was. This one, though, was just as inaccessible, and they were left with nothing more than pictures of the building and some alien text for Maya to translate.

He craned his head upwards at the gap in the building, only to have to swat away a coldbird that took the opportunity to divebomb him. He suddenly had a new thought.

He called up Tony and Maya, and they exchanged some positional information and found they were only ten minutes away, heading somewhere else. John ordered them here.

John was getting impatient for more concrete results. Time was ticking.

Bill Fraser received the weather update. The storm, building rapidly, was already too close, so they'd have to wait it out. The short night was going to end soon, but it seemed they'd be stuck for a couple more hours. It was a small system, thankfully, more like the dust storms in the Sahara or Sonora, apparently not all-consuming as on Mars, where they sometimes became global and days-long.

"Another interruption," Lena groaned when he went to the pod to tell her.

They decided to call in to check on the status of Pedro Gutierez. The doctors had seen to his wrist, and he was hoping to return to their team. This had not been cleared yet with doctor or commander, though the expectation was that it would be, and he'd swap with Security Guard Carson, who could return to Flight 4.

This exchange, if made, would have to wait until after the storm. It was unfortunate. Time was wasting.

R-395 DAB 1820-2145: Of Building and Bridge

Maya was getting worried, though she tried not to let herself show it. There was no fast answer here, and the key had not been found. Or they had looked right at it and not seen the key for what it was. It had been her information from which they had all drawn up exploration plans, and now, from what she had been overhearing, only Flight 3 was having some success, except that they were behind schedule on their first hauls. The Commander conveyed more calm than she was feeling, though she was starting to suspect he was impatient under the surface. Nonetheless, his outward calm'appearance helped her a little bit, lessening her urge to apologize for her lack of finding anything so far.

Now she and Tony were getting out of their moonbuggy, Maya looking upward at the building, curiously divided in the middle.

Alexander compared it somewhat to the bridge, and Maya thought it a curious comparison. There was little correlation, yet more correlation than any other building she had looked at.

The Commander had her look at some text they had photographed at this building and a couple others, but it was all mundane material, mostly historical in nature. Like others, the name of the building was a word that did not translate, perhaps a proper name. She reported all this. The Commander looked a little disappointed, then quickly shifted the discussion.

"Maya, check out the gap up close. See if there is anything there. Just be careful. From here, can you scan for whether the force field is all the way across the gap?"

"My multiscanner doesn't have that resolution. There are gaps that would not be filled by the 30-centimeter field."

"Still, be careful."

"Yes, Commander."

She thought for a moment, recalling the falcon'form again, transforming into it, and taking to the air. She circled the building as she climbed, for the gap was nearly two-hundred meters up. The bridge was far longer than this building was tall, but it was still a fair height, and the wind, light on the ground, increased steadily as she got above some of the other buildings.

She cautiously approached the gap, fluttering more and more, to try to let her wingtips hit any force field first, but the wind was interfering badly with the maneuver, so she moved around to try from another side, but the strong, swirling headwind was now a fierce cross-wind. The beams and central core of the building, that made the gap only partial, also made the wind swirl more than was already the case at this height. Trying to fly with the wind was out of the question. Not only would she stall more easily, but she could be pushed into the gap too quickly.

She could not bring the advanced calculating parts of her mind along in this form, and was working off a mix of the bird's instincts and what parts of her mind were present, but she was thinking an attempt to land inside the wind-swirling gap might be far too risky.

She looked around, but had already been noticing the gap, other than the beams and the core, was featureless. If there had been writing here, she would not have been able to translate it since she couldn't bring that part of her mind along, though she could remember it for her full mind capture and consider later. There was no writing, however.

Still, she felt compelled to try something, and felt maybe the bird's instincts were over-reacting, so she came back around to where it was a headwind, and tried pushing in. However, a variation in the wind lessened its strength greatly all of a sudden. She stalled, started falling too fast, hit the force field, then got pushed out by a strengthening wind, and found herself falling on the outside of the building.

Tony gasped, horrified at the sight of Maya/falcon suddenly falling and spinning freely in the air, next to the tall building. His gasp drew everyone else's attention, and similar reactions.

It was quick moments that seemed to take forever, but finally, she opened her wings, stopped the spinning, pulled out of the fall, and started flapping her wings some. She seemed to be having trouble, though, for her flight was taking her away from them. She turned a little, but her flight, though slowed, did not seem very stable.

Finally, she straightened out her wings and glided, losing altitude in a more measured pace while losing speed. At first, it was away from them, then closer, but she was soon back to flapping, seemingly awkwardly. She disappeared from sight on the other side of the building, close to landing, though the way she was flying, they feared it might be a crash landing.

They ran her way, though they all almost tripped in startlement when the shield shedding occurred again. Their watches had rang a one-minute warning, but that had been before Maya started falling.

They soon caught sight of her, and found her already reverted to her normal form, kneeling but holding her arms against herself, one almost seeming to hold up the other while also pressing against her belly.

Did she revert just above the force field and hurt herself? Tony wondered. "Are you okay?" he yelled out.

She brought her arms away from her, stood up, and nodded, even smiling a bit.

"Are you sure?" Tony asked in a lower voice as they got close. "You were holding your arms oddly--"

"The bird'form was injured in wing and belly. The injury was gone when I reverted, but some of the falcon perceptions of pain temporarily remain. It is as I mentioned weeks ago."

"Of course," Tony said, recalling that conversation now, and glad to hear she was fine.

"What happened?" John asked.

"Too much wind. I was fearful of that, but thought I could push through. I've never had practice in windy conditions, and balancing my mind and the hard-wired instincts I have in another form is sometimes tricky."

"So you pushed it too far," John said.

Tony gave him a funny look, thinking he was being a little harsh, but she seemed to take it in stride.

"Yes, I did," Maya admitted, without an explicit apology but with a sheepish look.

"We sometimes need to take chances, but it should be in balance, just like you have to keep the balance you mention, which I imagine varies from form to form."

"Yes, it does. I took a foolish chance out of inexperience. I will be more careful next time."

"You can always come back down," the Commander said, "or land somewhere safer to revert to report in by commlock and confer with me or whoever the lead is."

"Of course."

Tony finally got it. John was being the Commander, and in some ways, already seemed to know how to talk to her about her own ability, perhaps not surprisingly given he'd been exposed to it from the beginning. Instead of Tony's lingering distrust, John had probably considered it a new talent from the moment he had welcomed her in the beginning, and had probably thought through more things about it.

Tony briefly wondered if this sort of stuff was what Mentor had been teaching her while he had still been alive, about her ability and how to use it in varying situations. If so, and such lessons had been cut short, that might leave Maya not knowing how to handle herself well in some forms.

"So what did you notice?" John asked, a bit less intensely.

"Very little. I mean I noticed there were no writings, no signs of exposed devices, and only a hint of a special access door above and below. Nothing fancy: more like repair access."

"Hatches," Tony suggested.

"Yes, like that."

"What about the force field?" John asked.

"It was present. I got a little bit into the gap, and when the wind calmed for a moment, I stalled and hit it, still just inside the gap, before the wind strengthened and pushed me out."

"Do you think anything might be inside?"

"Impossible to tell. The upper level windows are just as reflective."

"Maybe we could bring in a team to scale the building to the gap," Alexander suggested.

"And hook onto what?" Tony asked.

"Right, force field covering anything."

"We could try flying an Eagle close in with a plank and someone harnessed."

"Comparing the fast-changing wind and what I know of atmospheric flight, I would recommend against that," Maya stated. "As I sift through my impressions, there is nothing that pulls my interest except the mere existence of the hatches."

"Probably a dead end," John said. "One that could become literal given the risk. Let's keep this building in mind, but maybe it is time to try the bridge again. I keep feeling we're missing something there. Too much talk about bridges in the legends for coincidence. This building may be very slightly reminiscent of the bridge, and we may have to come back, but let's move."

They made their way back to, and onto the bridge, this time spending more time walking rather than driving, hoping that, like with finding Rodolono's skeletal remains, that actual clues might be hidden in small spots.

A little later, John looked at his team. They'd all been scouring at road level, Maya at higher levels of the 'outside' earlier on -- as well as flying around the bridge's piers and the central rock outcropping. The search was yielding less and less of interest, and nothing of any apparent practical use.

He stepped to the edge and looked over the side, between one of the small gaps in the bridge suspension system, which had a lot more down-hanging cables than anything he'd seen, perhaps not surprising given the width of the bridge. His hands pressed on the force field that was resting over the railing. He couldn't see much more than the water, and some of the coldbirds going one direction or another. Some were at their height, but did not try to fly between the gaps to get within the bridge.

"Bridge of power, / bridge of control, / across the deeply, / troubled waters," he softly recited to himself. They had already drawn the analogy of 'troubled waters' to the Alkinarda, but standing here on this bridge, with the not-so-troubled water below him, he was starting to think....

"Shield is going to shed in 64 seconds," Maya stated. One habit John had heard about was that she seemed to favor numbers that were multiples of 16. He had later found out their base numerical system was radix 16 instead of radix 10, so it seemed one of her habits came through, even though she still listed decimal numbers not needing conversion. It seemed 16 was a round number to her. Four seconds later, Tony's stopwatch started beeping, his one-minute warning, now superfluous with the whole team together.

He looked over the edge again.

"Maya, come over here...."

She approached and looked over the edge as well.

"What are the chances that something interesting is below?" he asked.

"Below what? The surface of the water?"

"Yes."

She took out her multi-scanner, but she could not scan directly under the bridge, only the water further from the 'shadow' of the bridge. She shook her head. "No way of knowing from here."

The shield shed a layer then, and curiously, he didn't even feel a tingle or anything on his hands, just that slight shake.

She seemed ready to climb between the bridge members, saying she could jump and transform into an aquatic mammal on the way down. Before he could protest, she suddenly thought twice, saying, "I'm not used to judging distances like this. How high do you think we are, Commander?"

"Alexander, do you have that rangefinder?"

He brought it over, and soon had a reading.

"157.3 meters."

John had known this was a high bridge, but some human skyscrapers could have fit under the bridge.

"Oh, too high. Even as that animal, the water molecules won't part fast enough."

She seemed to be taking John's earlier words to heart. She moved a few gaps down the bridge, seemingly looking at a smaller rock sticking out of the river that was half-hidden. John remained where he was, Tony stepped up, next to her.

"Can you fly down?" Tony asked her.

"Yes, that will work. I can land on that rock, jump into the water, and turn into the aquatic mammal."

"Dolphin?" Tony asked.

"I don't know that word."

John looked at her quietly as she and Tony interacted. It was a wonderful talent that she had, but given what had happened at the skyscraper, it was clear it was un-honed, a still developing talent. It was only recently available to her in this degree, he had heard. She had scarcely if ever used it in the open air before. This was all stuff her father would have probably covered if their lives had been different. While John was hardly in a position to really understand her very alien abilities, he could still observe, learn, and give her tips based on his observations and way of thinking. At least she was a quick learner. He already knew she could be killed while in an alternative form, and that would be the end of her, so she needed to learn more of her limits even in this very alien ability.

That brought him to another realization. "Do you need to take a water testing kit with you?"

"I won't be in that form for more than an hour, so.... But if there is something truly dangerous, it could overwhelm.... Yes, please."

Alexander went to one of the moonbuggies to retrieve it.

In the meantime, John gave his approval to the idea. She took her jacket off, handed it Tony, took the kit from Tony, and still with hers, transformed, again into a falcon.

Now that Tony had accepted her ability, he found it didn't grow old, at least not yet. It was amazing. He at least didn't let his mouth hang open this time.

The bird just stood there on the force field above the road surface of the bridge, looking around for a few seconds, then starting to jump up and down, flapping her wings briefly each time, looking around some more, then stopping to squawk once at Tony.

"What is she trying to say?" Tony asked, baffled. Maya squawked again, and he looked at her. "Maya, I don't speak Falchon," he said, tweaking the word's pronunciation on purpose, to mimic the word Psychon.

Maya/falcon walked up towards him, then used her beak to grab at her own jacket, which Tony was holding. She tugged at it, let it go, and screeched.

John looked at Tony and said, "Tony, I think--"

"Yeah, I got it now." There was too little width between the vertical supports of the bridge for Maya to get her wingspan through, at least with any tolerable margin. "If she took off the jacket for this reason, why didn't she say something?"

"I think she took it off so it wouldn't get wet when she jumps into the water," Alexander hypothesized, apparently starting to think a little bit more about how she might think.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Tony said. He quickly wrapped the jacket around his arm, tightly for a good grip for her, then lowered it to the ground in front of her.

She immediately hopped on, and he lifted her up, though she opened her wings three times for balance as he lifted and then started walking. The third time, she squawked in obvious protest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to ruffle your feathers," he said as he slowed down a little and carefully walked to the edge of the bridge. She didn't have to open her wings again. The bird's talons were putting pressure on his arm through his jacket, yet not penetrating the jackets, or at least not far enough to reach his skin. She was being as careful with Tony as he with her now. He put his arm out well past the vertical supports. Immediately, she pushed off his arm, barely opening her wings until she was in the air and a bit further from the bridge.

Almost immediately, the coldbirds started pestering Maya/falcon as she flapped around a few times before going into a dive. Some of the coldbirds scattered, but some followed her down, seemingly trying to attack. Even as Tony picked up his binoculars and watched, it was hard to tell how close they got, though at one point Maya veered, jerking her talons up, as if trying to grab at one of them, but missing -- perhaps on purpose. She resumed her dive, but far fewer coldbirds followed, apparently put off by Maya's demonstration of aggravation.

"Is she okay?" John asked.

"Yeah, she scared most of them off, at least for now."

Maya'as'falcon soared. A small part of her mind was conscious within the bird, enough to recognize her name, understand some basic instructions, and be able to make some choices more advanced than the falcon's own instincts -- but little "room" for most of her.

Mostly, she had to work through instructions she had almost instinctively, during transformation, wired into the parts of the raptor's brain she could safely alter, as well as the parts of the reversion triggers she also had to hard-wire.

A small part of her mind was present, though, and would allow more flexible reactions if something unexpected happen, which was fortunate considering failing to take her wingspan into account before transforming. She needed a form larger than the troubling cra'eelor flying around the bridge, but had not thought to ask to be carried past the bridge elements.

Whatever Tony had said to her after she realized her predicament, she wouldn't be able to translate until she reverted and sifted through the lingering impressions.

There was enough of her own mind present to feel some emotional exhilaration in the flight, a bit of her mind in the moment of it, with no real knowledge beyond that.

She did not have to use that small fragment of mind to finally chase off most of the pestering cra'eelor, for the hard-wired instincts of the draska'elor had reached the conclusion they were getting too aggressive and needed to be scared off.

She glided down towards the river rock, circled it several times to loose enough speed to land, then proceeded to alight, directly on a flat part of the rock face nearest the water. That was one of the reversion triggers, and moments later, Maya emerged from her metamorphic haze, smiling at the memories. As with the flight around the building until she had pushed too far and got herself into trouble, this was even more incredible than flight in Biosphere IV had been. This was in a truly open atmosphere, with the sight of an immense city spread out on either side of the river, and the bridge spanning so much of her view. The experience was far more incredible than she had imagined.

It was a brief smile, however, for she had a task. She looked upwards at the massive bridge almost directly above her. She could not really see the others well at all, so she looked at the water, then got on her knees, setting her kit and took the Water Quality Tester out, and proceeded to check it. It eventually reported back no dangerous elements. She put the device back in her kit, which she moved to an easy wedging point to keep it there, not wanting to damage any electronics. With a bit of trepidation and a careful look at it, she jumped in, began swimming on her back, and started picturing her next form.

This intended creature, which she had never been able to actually transform into before, she already knew was far different than the shrewd but still somewhat small-minded falcon. This warm-blooded aquatic animal's form included a brain which allowed her to connect some rather large portions of herself, including the associative language array containing this ancient world's language. She would not have to revert to initially process whatever she saw, and know the words; but understanding their meaning beyond simple translation would probably have to wait until she reverted to herself, and perhaps need the others' help to interpret anyway.

Her metamorphosis complete, she swam down from the surface, intending to check the bridge piers first, and started hunting about.

"Seeing" was a curious matter with this creature, which had an almost distinct additional sense, sort of midway between sight and sound, using sound and hearing to construct mental pictures of her surroundings.

John looked at Tony watching Maya/falcon in the binoculars. John himself could scarcely see her, even after she reverted and jumped into the water and transformed.

"A dolphin," Tony informed John and Alexander afterwards. "Or something close to it. Still amazing."

She was soon out of sight, and they continued walking around the bridge and nearby center rock, photographing everything now, in the idea that if Alpha got within communications range and they had still not solved the puzzle, that maybe Sandra and others on Alpha could further analyze and look for possibilities.

They were still looking for anything minor they might not have noticed before, but not finding anything, as the wind whistled about them, sometimes making eerie sounds, as if the force field, though acting solid, was a strange solid and created new sound patterns.

In the meantime, he checked with Flight 4. Alibe indicated Flight 3 was getting closer to having a first Hauler ready to move. This had taken over twelve hours, but Alan was now predicting since they had cracked the welding/drilling problem and that things seemed to move much faster after that, it was possible they could lower the next one to eight hours for each Hauler, then maybe five to six on subsequent ones.

Patrick Osgood's team had been in this same city for hours, and though they had listed plenty of curiosities, none had jumped out at Alibe as worthy of further checking. John wondered what Sandra would have made out of the information, but leaving Helena as the lone officer on Alpha was not something he had wanted to do. Once within range, she could perhaps double-check Alibe's analysis as well.

Having Alex and Maya give a quick check would probably be needed regardless, but decided to wait until she was back and they could all brainstorm.

Flight 5 was still grounded near the biome by a dust storm, but they had indicated it was abating.

Flight 4 itself had a report on Gutierez, that his wrist had been broken and was being set, and that he was demanding a return to the surface once that was done. Mathias was willing to release him, and Koenig indicated a return to duty would be welcomed. This return would have to wait until the dust storm abated.

Alibe also indicated the interference patterns appeared to be worsening slightly over time. It was starting to seem like something on the planet was aware of their presence and generating an increasing amount of interference, beyond what had already made it difficult to detect small structures even on their arrival, hours before. It did not seem to be worsening at too intense a rate, considering the Alphans' limited timeframe of only a few days on the planet, but it was not clear if it would be a steady rise in interference, or geometrical or exponential.

For the remainder of Flight 2, nothing much had changed with the sole Eagle still scouring a dead city. Koenig informed Alibe to contact Osgood's team and inform them that they were now moved to Flight 1, meaning they were 'permanently' detached to Glasscit. The only other Flight 2 team, Sanderson's, now flying about in search of other resources, wasn't finding much either.

No one was having much luck on Kaskalon, the Bridge World.

R-395 DAB 2140-2220: Across the Glass Ring

The dust storm, relatively thick, was finally thinning enough for Fraser to deploy the telescopic camera. He and Andreichi were impatient to get moving, and even Carson, the guard, seemed tired of being cooped up in the Eagle.

They immediately aimed for the indistinct object spotted some time before. The first thing that came into view was a series of black spots on the ground.

"What are those?" Lena asked.

"The coldbirds, I think."

"Nesting, probably, hunkered down during the storm."

On moving the camera again, even a bit of remaining dust did not blur what the earlier late-dusk conditions had turned to a five-kilometre-distant sihlouette.

"A ship?"

"Has to be," Bill said.

Bill called it in.

"What... it look like?" the Commander was asking a minute later.

"Let me transfer on-board camera." The ship was not all that detailed at this resolution, conveying little more than a sort of vague fish-like shape, nose in the ground, but seemingly somewhat intact. "Does Maya recognize it?"

"She's reconnoitering the... not be reached... now."

That baffled him for a moment. Cannot be reached by commlock? Oh, yeah, metamorph, he had to remind himself. He wondered briefly what happened to her commlock when she transformed. His thoughts were interrupted by further chopped-up words from the Commander.

"Inves... usual pre... port back."

"Poor copy. We should investigate with caution and report back?"

"Confirmed. Invest... with caution...."

"Sound financial advice," Lena abruptly quipped sotto voce, much to Bill's surprise. Lena was not known for much of a sense of humour. Maybe part of Tony's sense of humour had rubbed off.

Bill smiled as he said, "Copy confirmation, will proceed with repositioning flight and exploration immediately."

He was countermanded by Koenig, who indicated he preferred to have Pedro brought down to their Eagle's current position before Fraser repositioned his Eagle. "Oh, and... Carson... you."

"Did not copy. Please repeat."

"Carson... remain on your team. Precaution... new ship."

"Copy, Carson stays with Flight 5."

The last of the dust had faded during the conversation, and they left the Eagle to look towards the biome. The shield had no dust on it. Then again, neither did the Eagle, for there was some lingering wind already blowing off the dust.

It wasn't long before the Rescue Eagle arrived to deliver Pedro Gutierez, the zoologist, back to Flight 5. Bill welcomed him back, then headed back to the Eagle to do final preparations for a brief repositioning flight.

Lena soon followed him up front. She was not a pilot, though Annie had confidentially told Bill that according to one rumour, Lena was considering volunteering. For a second, he thought her motives at this moment might be to get a closer look at flying; but as soon as they were in the air, Lena used the camera to scan the biosphere area and its immediate surroundings. "Closest we've been to it in the air. It is beautiful. It is too bad it seems to be inaccessible."

"Hmmm," he said, distracted, making sure not to approach the shield too closely.

"That glassy band goes for as far as I can see. This force field is immense."

"You know, it didn't occur to me before, but wasn't there something about a glass ring or band in the alien poems?"

"Yes," she said. "I'll check when we land." Lena then panned the camera forward on their flight path and found the ship again, as Bill checked the external sensors. Nothing was spiking towards alarm territory. No radiation, no biohazards these systems could detect. No lifesigns near the ship except apparently the birds. Lena could not find anything more than that visually, either.

They settled in well over a hundred metres away from the alien ship, not wanting to be too close to an unknown factor, and to avoid an area of dense black spots that were perhaps the coldbird nesting ground. Besides not wanting to crush who knows how many annoying but otherwise innocent birds under the pads of his far heavier "bird," he had no doubt they would be even more pesty -- understandably in this case -- if he landed right in the middle of their nesting territory. They were already pests away from their immediate roosting or breeding grounds.

Lena immediately went back to the pod, to bring up the poem. After Bill completed the simple shutdown, he went back there, and she quoted the latter part of the one the Alphans had dubbed "The Details":

Cracked yet not cored,
curves and branchings,
cackles of the cold.
Breathings and bumps
across the glass ring.
Locked museums stand;
noise, static, dynamic.
dead/Alive, cold/Warm.
All can see a lost past,
others cannot touch.

"Seems we found the glass ring," Lena added.

"Agreed. 'Bumps' are probably those noises that the biome's varying shield makes, like something banging in a cargo carrier," Bill said.

Pedro nodded. "The shield here probably is the 'dynamic' -- or the birds are. Or both. Plus, 'cold/Warm' probably refers to those coldbirds, which I assume are still warm-blooded, just preferring cold air."

"An alien visitor wrote the birds into a poem?" Carson commented.

"You haven't seen how annoying they can get," Bill said.

"They do make an impression," Pedro added.

"Plus, 'cackles of the cold' too," Lena commented. "Not sure if their noises count as cackles, but they're called coldbirds--"

Pedro frowned. "By whom?" the zoologist asked.

Bill shrugged as he said, "I was assuming Maya. Not sure if it's important now. Actually, Lena, go ahead and report these guesses to Flight 4, and find out where the name comes from. Probably not important, but still...."

"Lost past others cannot touch," Lena quoted, morosely. They were seeing mounting evidence of exactly that.

While Lena called in the latest thoughts, the rest grabbed supplies, including a flashlight, stun guns, a laser rifle, and scanners. None of them were technical experts, but they would get the first look, and could run some basic checks, and just get a closer look.

Lena finished, was also handed a stun gun after she picked up another piece of equipment. Outside, they were immediately divebombed by coldbirds. Bill forced himself to ignore them. "I see what you mean," Carson stated.

They were nearly a kilometre from the force field, across the bare, chilly desert. The booming, now that they were listening for it right away this time, was subtle.

He looked at the ship, a hundred meters away. It was rather strange looking, even for an alien ship.

R-395 DAB 2230-2240: Sealed

As Maya reconnoitered the river under the bridge, Koenig, Verdeschi, and Karedepoulos had found nothing significantly new and the Commander stated they needed to come up with another plan to determine what to look for next, unless Maya had found something.

So they abruptly stopped looking and started brainstorming.

Tony eventually wondered if they weren't supposed to try beaming a signal at something in the city, maybe the bridge. There was nothing distinctively a communications tower, either stand-alone or on a building, though the funny-looking antennae clusters were fairly ubiquitous but small -- both factors making them a rather drab possibility.

They contacted the other Eagle now in Glasscit if they had noticed anything that looked more communications oriented, but they had not seen anything different than the command team had.

They called up Alibe to start beaming down greetings messages. She also suggested key words like Alkinarda, Kaskalon, Bridge, and key. Problem was, the words were either English, or Alphan variations on Psychon or Psychon-translated words.

"Didn't Maya say Alkinarda was the Psychon compaction of a non-Psychon phrase? Alkey Intar Heart Desper or something? Not what she said, but something like that."

Fortunately, the phrase had been later repeated, and someone had bundled into the information they had. Unfortunately, they had Maya's spelling of it in English, not a recording of her pronunciation. She also spelled it with a symbol no one at the original meeting could pronounce when she had said the phrase: Aldinark^ Intar Hartrakonzk Daspa.

John paused, then decided. "Try it anyway, voice and text, along with the words in English. We already know some peoples out here can speak it," -- Tony looked ready to make a counterpoint, but John raised his hand, already aware of a counterpoint -- "though this world has apparently been silent for so many millennia or eons that's unlikely. Put together something, try it from orbit, and if that doesn't work, you can send the recording to us and we'll try it here. If that doesn't work, we'll get some more original words and pronunciations from Maya."

"Speaking of whom," Alexander said after a screech came from in back of them.

When Maya, still pestered somewhat by the coldbirds, got close enough, Tony wrapped her jacket around his arm, reached it out, and let her land. He pulled her back between the bridge's force field encrusted suspension cables, and she flapped off his arm, landed on the bridge, and reverted. Either she couldn't transform directly while close to someone else, or hadn't learned how yet.

She was also soaking wet, and besides Tony quickly helping her put her jacket back on, the Commander told Alexander to get her a blanket, though he had seemingly taken a step in the direction of a moonbuggy already. A towel was kept in each moonbuggy, for whatever use, including wiping hands after a repair, but this time, she was happy to accept it to dry her hands and face.

"If I could have mastered animal-to-animal transformations, I could have turned into the semi-aquatic jesi'drelor between the two other forms, rather than having to jump in myself." She said it lightly, less as a complaint than a wishful thought.

Tony smiled a bit, then said, "Jessedralor? What is that, like a seal or sea lion?"

"Seal does not mean animal to me, and I don't know any aquatic felines."

The men all laughed, and she took it gracefully.

"Maya," Tony started, "for someone who knows a lot of animal forms, you're sure missing the vocabulary. Have the zoologist Pedro Gutierez point out some reference material with descriptions and pictures when we get back. Maybe you'll recognize a bunch. You've talked with him before, haven't you?"

"Yes; and that sounds like a good idea. Thank you." She handed the used towel back to Alexander, then looked at Tony, who was starting to turn away. Impulsively, she reached out to touch his arm, and he turned back to her. "You don't speak Falchon?" she said.

"Oh, you heard me?"

"Heard you, but did not recall or understand until now. You're silly, sometimes," she said with a sparkling smile.

"Got to have a sense of humour."

"Yes."

Maya, in a jacket and wrapped in a blanket, the moment of levity over, gave her report, which was relatively quick, but dismal. "I was able to transfer most of my consciousness into the aquatic mammal, so I was able to sort it all out already, down'below. Besides the piers, there are other structures, but they too are covered by the force field. Even the river bottom rocks near the piers are. There was very little writing, all of it mundane again. I could not determine what purpose the structures have, but they could likely be part of the system generating the force field, which likely needs stations all over the city. I checked everything I could think of."

Just then, they received a communication.

R-395 DAB 2220-2330: Cracked Yet not Cored

It was a garishly-colored, semi-intact ship that confronted the four members of Flight 5, not far from the biome. It had had weird stripes of white over black, infused with jagged bolts of half-faded red, orange, and yellow. There were no windows, and no entry port on this side.

Fraser took out his stun gun, but kept it aimed at the ground.

In a mild oversight, an entire sentence had been lost to interference in communication between Flights 5 and 4, hours before, and Flight 5 was left unaware of the dampening field that, apparently planet-wide, was interfering with concentrated laser energy.

Gutierez and Andreichi followed suit, while Carson didn't have to do anything, already holding his laser rifle, also at the ground. As they approached cautiously, the hand-held scanners and sensors were not raising any concerns. The three fanned about the strange craft, while several of them still ran scans, which were not finding anything noteworthy or worrisome. It had probably been here for ages, yet while showing signs of damage from a crash, was not in the state of advanced decay the 'rotting' cities Flight 4 had relayed a brief comment about.

"Hello, anyone inside?!" Bill called out, nonetheless, just to be certain. "We mean no harm. Do you need aid?"

No response. He had not expected any.

There were cracks in the hull, and a coldbird walked out from one, and immediately started screeching at them.

"Mr. Fraser," Carson called out from the far side. "Take a look at this."

Bill came around, and saw what the guard was looking at. It was a strange, unfamiliar, but disconcerting symbol. An ovoid shape, with concentric circles and jagged lines emanating from a single point on the ovoid.

"Something creepy about that symbol," Lena said.

"Yeah," Bill said.

Gutierez and Carson nodded too.

There was a bigger crack in the ship, and he approached and looked inside, but could not see anything. "Hand me the torch." Carson handed him the flashlight, but it did not tell him much more, other than that there were a few more coldbirds, looking angry at having their shelter violated. They weren't nesting, however. There was no room for a person inside, for the void was far too small. Another coldbird dive-bombed him from the outside, and he pulled back, seeing Lena heading back towards him.

"I see no signs of a door," she said. "No bodies. Here's another copy of that symbol, though. Maybe you should check again if Maya is available. If not, I think we should pull back. There is something wrong about this ship."

"Maybe this ship is a weapon, a bomb," Carson commented.

"Must be disabled or inactive," Gutierez commented.

"Still, let's back off forty metres for now," Bill ordered.

Another call. He gave the information to the commander, then asked if Maya was there.

"Yes, Bill?" came her voice and face a couple seconds later, her image occasionally broken up by the interference. For some reason, her hair looked like it was soaking wet. Though curious, he did not ask why.

"There is a rather disturbing-looking symbol on the side of this strangely-coloured ship. We're concerned it might be an inactive bomb. Here, let me show you the ship first. It is partially buried, but probably 16-22 metres long."

John, Tony, and Alex listened as Maya said, "I'm not sure," in response to the ship. "It looks vaguely familiar. What are the colors?"

"Black and white... jagged stre... various colors."

"The symbol?" A couple seconds later, her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened.

"What is it?" John demanded immediately.

"It is a... an exponential bomb."

"Gi... cruise missile?" Bill asked over the connection.

"Fraser--" Koenig started before being cut off.

"Commander, wait," Maya said, showing her increasing willingness to interject a little more when she felt the need. "It is inactive."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"When active -- they have to be activated for hours before hitting target -- they are easy to detect, even with Alphan.... I mean our equipment would detect them too."

"Which equipment?" Koenig demanded.

"Radiation detectors, Eagle external sensors, basic sensors always active on a moonbuggy. All of them would have alerted anywhere near.... Actually, we would have detected it from orbit. Besides, the dampening field--"

"Of course," Tony said. "But someone was trying to bomb the biome? How much damage would it have done?"

"Assuming average yields, equations, and given its size... estimated crater diameter: more than 300 kilometers. Destruction range: much further."

"Bloody hell," Tony said. "If they're so easy to detect, why bother with such bombs?"

"To destroy larger rogue asteroids. Complete incineration. They operate on a principle of exponential... conversion... creating a feedback mechanism that does not dampen for quite some distance. The physics--"

"Maybe we should haul it away," Alex interjected.

"Yeah, maybe," John said. "Could come in handy. Could have already."

"I don't know about you," Tony started, "but taking a bomb that was probably ticking before it hit the dampening field, back out of that field...."

"Hmph," Koenig responded. "You're probably right. Damn, that could have been helpful. Still, if we get some time, I may have us take a look at it anyway."

"That and the biome," Alex suggested.

The Commander looked at them each in turn, Maya last, paused, then said, "Maya's cold, we all could use a break and some food, and all we've got for light is Red Sun and it will be setting soon. Let's head back to the Eagle, take a break, then a trip there."

This time, after calling in their plans to Flight 4, the two moonbuggies traveled in parallel but much closer, so the four could continue conversing about the new puzzle of the exponential bomb.

"Now what?" Lena asked Bill after receiving orders to stay put and wait for Eagle 1 to join them.

"Take some pictures of this bomb and the biome."

"You're right. Better get the telephoto lens."

They both had cameras, Lena to take pictures of plants, Bill for anything else.

"What puzzles me," Lena said, "is why nothing at all grows outside the biome. I don't even see lichen. It's at the equator, so temperatures shouldn't range much, and even dipping below freezing, something should be growing."

"Hmph, and something must be heating that biome," Pedro speculated.

"Greenhouse effect?" Lena asked.

"Maybe the shield can do that," Bill speculated. "Have to ask Maya if they work that way. Still, some of what we're looking through is not just the near side of the shield but the far side, and it still looks transparent."

"To light, but maybe not infrared," Pedro wondered. "Hey, don't you have an infrared camera?"

"Sure," Bill said. "Let me get it too."

Three different cameras and a soil testing kit soon came out of the Eagle, while the guard kept an eye on the coldbirds, and Pedro, the zoologist, walked towards the nesting area with a camera. Of course, that only riled them up, severely, and their dive bombing and general mobbing turned rather intense. The Alphans had to retreat inside Eagle 4 until they let up.

Five minutes later, they cautiously moved back outside, this time out the door that wasn't facing the roosting ground, easing to where they could see the biome, though. A couple coldbirds were on the Eagle, cackling at them, perhaps keeping even more of an eye on them now.

Keeping a leery eye on the birds, they first tried the IR video camera on the shield, and except for Carson, soon lost concern over the birds, given what they saw on camera.

"Ohhh," Lena said. Sure enough, the shield was semi-opaque in the IR range. They could see its random variations, a half-sphere dome swelling and contracting by small amounts overall. The top-most reaches looked bizarre, complex, and ever-changing.

"Like its accepting energy from above, along the magnetic pole."

They called this in to Flight 4 immediately, and Alibe mentioned Maya had speculated on something called magnetic dipole energy conductance.

"Well, not sure what that is, but this video may be able to confirm that."

They ran a cable back from the camera to the Eagle to keep it constantly powered, now that there was definitely something to record. Lena got busy setting up a tripod to take some telephoto pictures of the biome.

"I'd still like to get closer again at some point, to get some better shots."

"I'll recommend it after Eagle 1 gets here," Bill stated.

Bill took numerous shots and some video of the exponential bomb ship, the coldbird nesting ground, and of the biome, overall and zoom shots.

Lena then got busy on the soil testing, while Bill went back into the Eagle to do some routine checks of Eagle systems before whenever the next flight would be.

Just as Fraser was wrapping up, Carson came in to tell him Andreichi had found some interesting initial results. He headed out to listen.

"The pH levels are all wrong, there is salt in the soil, plus probably another chemical inimical to plant life -- not to us or we would have found it right away -- and there is little water in the soil."

"How did it get this way?"

"I don't.... Maybe that fishy ship over there was not the only bombing attempt."

"Biological warfare?"

"It might explain all this. Nothing growing out here, but inside the protective shield, lush, jungle-like growth."

"And the birds?"

"Well, might not explain all of it, but--"

"I think you're on to something."

Yet something else to call in to Flight 4 about. In return, Bill received information on Flight 1's ETA here.

R-395 DAB 2330-2400: Sunfade and Speedburst

Before the Eagle 1 team could leave the bridge, they got a signal from Alibe on Flight 4. She had tried various greetings signals from orbit, as well as repeating a number of key words, but had received no response.

John stopped his moonbuggy, and Tony followed suit. Other than the great shield shedding another layer a few minutes before, which had been expected, nothing else had happened in the city during that time, that anyone had noticed. At John's order, the group on the bridge all aimed their commlocks at various points on the bridge and relayed the same package of signals, but to no apparent effect.

"Alibe, talk to Maya and have her repeat some of the key words and phrases in as original a language as she knows. Reassemble the package, and try again from orbit. We'll have to try from bridge proximity later."

"... can drop an om... bridge."

"Didn't copy. Repeat."

"You... an omni-directional relay on...."

"Good thinking. Tony, see if one of these moonbuggies--"

"I think so."

Once that was complete, they resumed. It had been a fifteen-minute moonbuggy ride back to Eagle 1. Maya, still wrapped in a thermal blanket, almost bolted into the warmer Eagle, unpacked a change of clothes from her supply, and headed into the back compartment of the Eagle. Alex was stowing the camera and breaking out some food, Tony was prepping the Eagle for non-emergency launch, and John was conferring with Flight 4 for a more general update.

Flight 3 was about an hour from being ready for the first haul.

The one Flight 2 team still looking at a rotting city was still working, except for the one person having a bird scratch checked out. The thought of Flight 2 reminded John of an earlier thought, and John considered whether Chief Architect Karedepoulos should at least get a brief look at one of the abandoned cities. Maybe on the way back. There would be photographs and video, but they would pass relatively close to one, so a direct look, even if only for a few minutes, might be useful. Still, priority of that was unclear. Despite advance information, there is still a lot of guesswork here.

The other remaining Flight 2 team, Sanderson's, was having only minimal success finding other resources.

Alpha was still at least a half day from communications range.

Flight 5 had also just discovered the biome's transparent shield was far from such in infrared ranges, and that the team had speculated it was to set up a greenhouse effect to keep the biome warmer than its surrounding territory. The shields at either pole were apparently permanent, and apparently the primary generation was at the city, and the biome at the receiving end. Maybe the receiving end still needed technology to properly center the shield or something. He'd have to ask Maya, but she needed a break.

So did he. "Okay, we're about twenty minutes from launching that way, and will be about twenty minutes after that."

He left the Eagle for a moment. Red Sun was approaching the horizon, to set not long after the last of the Alkinarda had set, an hour before. The days were slightly faster here, only 22.1 hours for one synodic rotation.

The city wasn't semi-bright glistening blue, but dim rust red, the orange-red sun now turning a disk redder than almost any sunset he had ever seen on Earth.

The Introduction poem apparently referred to it as the sun of faded glory. Had it indeed once been brighter? The planet clearly received more of its light from the huge blue nebula and attendent stars, rather than its own sun, or this city would probably be the temperature of Mars. Other legends implied the Half Star system, which the Moon had passed through weeks ago, had once had more planets. Destroyed planets, dimmed star, and the Alkinarda. If the legends were true, these aliens had fought with weapons beyond our understanding.

The city was silent. The occasionally pesky coldbirds had apparently retreated somewhere for the coming night. God only knew where -- or how they survived here. For a moment, there was utter silence, until his watch started beeping. He turned it off and waited out the remaining minute until the shield shedding started. For a moment, the whole city glowed slightly. Then it reverted to the same dim red.

He went back inside to grab a meal.

Karedepoulos was conferring with someone about technology and architecture, perhaps van der Mir, apparently for several minutes now, for he wrapped up the conversation and disconnected.

Maya emerged from the back, her clothes changed, and her hair dry and re-arranged. She smiled briefly as she started passing, he reached out his hand to touch her arm briefly.

She turned to him, a question and a smile on her face. He had noticed before that she certainly didn't mind friendly contact at all. "Warmed up again?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you, I am fine."

"Good, grab a meal and then a short nap."

"Yes," she said simply, which given her usual hyper-formality, was either a sign she was relaxing more around humans she knew, or was too tired to care.

He got an MRE -- some of the last from Earth instead of newly prepared Alphan MRE versions -- and took it outside, to sit on the Eagle's stairs and stare at the alien sunset. The disk looked so dim now, and it seemed the deserts around it meant there was some more dust in the air, for the sun didn't seem to set on the horizon between two buildings, so much as dim further and fade from sight.

The sky didn't turn black right away, but when he finished his meal, he went inside to grab a quick nap. Maya and Alex were eating -- but hardly in close proximity, and not sharing a word. John thought for a second, but decided against trying to interfere. Besides, they were probably tired.

He found his minor break was all he needed for now. He was still trying to find a handle on the puzzle, and not relaxed enough to sleep. Just after liftoff, he'd let Tony grab a quick nap, if he wanted. By the time they turned around to fly back, John might need one, concerned mind or not.

They launched, and in a minute, all was starting to settle. Except the moment of relative relaxation abruptly ended.

"Flight 3 to Flight 1, come in Commander Koenig." It was Alan Carter, his voice sounding as clear as any communication at this distance was: with increasing altitude from the "dampened" city or surface, the partial interference had quickly cleared.

"Flight 1 receiving, go ahead."

"We've gotten the first station piece secured ahead a little earlier than the last estimate, just a few minutes ahead of current prime departure point in this orbit. Are you ready to coordinate, or should we wait for the next orbit?"

"Give us a minute."

"We only have three minutes left in the window for this orbit."

"Understood, Alan. Tony, transfer connection to the back, then take the controls. I'll get Maya started, and supervise."

"Right."

So much for Maya getting some sleep now, he thought as he walked to the back. Sure enough, she was sleeping. "Maya." She jerked awake. Probably not used to other people's voices, besides Mentor's, waking her up.

"Yes, Commander?" she said, seeming a little surprised, probably knowing exactly how few minutes it had been.

"Flight 3 has its first haul setup ahead of schedule. Only two minutes left for this window."

"Oh," she said, then smiled, seemingly having looked forward to this challenge. She got up and moved to the science station, and quickly set up the data commlink, saying, "Hello, Alan," as she noticed his face on the screen. "Are you the actual first pilot?" A tape started scrolling immediately, giving orbital positions and attitudes of the Alan's Eagle.

"Hello, Maya. Yes, I get to do the first production run."

Maya smiled briefly, but was all business in a moment. "Okay, 64 seconds to prime point. Adjust attitude 4 starboard right now."

"Adjusted."

"48 seconds.... 32 seconds.... Adjust 1 port.... 16 seconds. 8 seconds. Prepare throttle to 10 percent. 4 seconds. 2 seconds.... Now, throttle 10, now, now."

"Throttling up."

"Dead center.... Dead center. Port 2 down 1, throttle to 15.... Port 1.... Starboard 3 down 1, throttle to 20.... Mass 1200 plus/minus 300."

A heavy one, John mused, also noticing Maya's throttle orders climbing faster than in practice.

"Dead center, throttle 22. Mass 1244±244. Port 5 down 2, throttle 24."

John listened over the minutes as the throttle continued climbing faster, and the mass figures varied within her original range before settling somewhat more.

"Star'board 1, throttle 53. Mass 1158±27. Release probable in one minute. Likely destination far'side upper highlands. Its mass was too great and remaining window too small to aim near'side away from Alpha and other sensitive areas."

"That's okay, Maya. You're doing well," John stated. She had even taken the initiative to make a decision, where she already had authority, without asking. She had decided she could not aim for a more optimal areas, and had gone ahead with the more distant areas.

The tape rolling out of the computer was nearly a meter long now, Maya guiding it out with one hand, her other hand's fingers' tense movements relaxing a little on John's words, even as she continued giving guidance.

"Port 7 up 2, throttle 57. Release in 16 seconds.... Port 1, mass 1160±13. Dead center. 4 seconds. Release now, now, now."

"Chains released.... Moving away.... Coming 'round for trailing measurement...."

"Check his new data right away," John reminded Maya.

"Yes, Commander."

"Trailing course, behind its back end 125 meters by rangefinder."

This time, Maya just waited for a number of seconds of data to stream, then sat back, got a distant look for a moment, then looked at John, and said, loud enough for all to hear via commlinks: "Latitude negative 37, plus/minus 1, longitude east 160, plus/minus 3. Nearest named crater: Jules Verne, to west of predicted range. No forbidden regions. Collision angle slightly steeper than most optimal, 10 degrees plus/minus 1. I--"

"Good enough. Alan, turn away and scout for your next target. Remember we can't overlap departures."

"Well, if we had thought of hauling Main Computer here too...."

Everyone laughed, including Maya and Alex as well, but John only briefly as his thoughts turned serious. First hunk of metal on its way, then. Sandra had suggested what the 'ring of station' line might be, and after more brainstorming by several Alphans, the first fragment of that ring was now on its way on a long arc away from the planet that would bring it alongside and then crashing into the Moon. A lot had been designed around this idea, and though the challenge wasn't finished, it seemed to be working, so far.

Of course, whether any of the metallic material, which had not been analyzed in much detail, could ever be put to use, was another matter. Like the wrecked alien spaceships, it could be awhile before it showed much use. He almost chuckled at the irony of putting a tiny fraction of the so far almost useless spaceship metal to use in obtaining more possibly useless metal.

It was an exercise well worth the time, resources, and fuel, though. Somewhere, maybe Paul was smiling at this method of carrying out part of the plan he had started developing. Maybe Victor was smiling at it all too.

F-396 DAB 0015-0220: A City and its Opposite

Less than fifteen minutes later, they were all looking at the biome as they approached from a careful distance. It was the 'glass ring' indeed, as Flight 5 had pointed out. More and more about the legends were verified -- except for the most important, namely the key.

After landing and taking a look at the biome from ground level, spanning almost half the perspective, even from roughly a kilometer away, it was impressive.

The coldbirds, nesting a couple hundred meters away, weren't bothering them now. They seemed rather erratic or schizophrenic about their mobbing behavior.

They soon turned to the unexploded exponential bomb.

New scanners, including Maya's, were not very revealing, except more verification it was inactive. It seemed likely that it being a weapon, it was not allowed to detonate, similar to what apparently stopped Osgood's explosive devices.

She looked at what she could of it, with enthusiasm. Maya had put the sunglasses back on, now that they were back under the full light of the Alkinarda, but she took them off and temporarily exchanged them for a flashlight to illuminate its minimal interior. "Psychon always maintained a few in case of approaching asteroids that could not be diverted by other means, but I've never seen one myself," she explained.

"Is it a common technology?"

"It is an old technology, fairly common. I do not know exactly how widespread."

John was looking at the crack into a void in the ship. "Remote controlled, I assume?"

"I assume. Unless a few peoples put in a pilot chamber and a means of transporting the pilot out once the course was set; but that seems inefficient. I doubt this crack leads to a pilot chamber. I should design void'space detection in my next scanner, if I can."

"I doubt this is flyable, but just in case, is there any means you could design a remote control?"

"Oh, I know little about their protocol, and it probably varies from people to people. I might not be able to replicate such control, almost certainly not within mission time."

"Okay, scrap that. I'm still mostly with Tony's original assessment on massive risk meddling with one of these given this world's conditions."

The two teams quickly moved to exchanging other findings. The infrared readings of the varying shield fascinated everyone. Other spectrum frequencies were tried, those that were accessible, but it was most apparent in infrared. Maya confirmed the speculation of Flight 5 that the highly-varying uppermost reaches of the dome did indeed appear to be that way due to its accepting energy from above, along the magnetic pole, adding that it was probably Glasscit generating the field, that part of its energy was conducted along the poles, and re-collated by small structures here into a simpler, and metastable, dome.

"Is it the energy so diffuse over the city that we've been able to safely fly through it?"

"Well, there are... well, simply stated, yes." Maya was getting a little better at editing her technical explanations, or foregoing them if the explanation wasn't immediately asked for, but a simple yes/no. Not that she seemed any different in sometimes needing to reason through something aloud.

The soil samples and the exponential bombs together seemed to add up to someone wanting to destroy what little was left of this world. Only Glasscit and the biome were intact. Virtually nothing else was, except for apparently a planet-wide dampening field.

It was becoming even more clear that Maya's sketchy knowledge about this planet not being inhabitable was true. Except for the biome, and the coldbirds allowed to fly out....

John wondered if she could transform into one, make her way into the shield, and fly around to see if she could find any structures. Inside this simpler dome shield, maybe the buildings were exposed and accessible.

"Well, I don't know if that's safe," Tony stated.

The risk seemed somewhat minimal, though, and the decision made.

Maya stared at one, only.... "I... can sense its molecular structures, but something about... it leaves me no 'room' to insert reversion instincts. I cannot transform into one."

"What about it?" John asked.

"I don't know. Smaller than a moderate-size insect is beyond any metamorph because there is not enough 'space' in their brain/mind to insert reversion instructions. This is odd, because I know the coldbird form from before, learned it directly, because there are... were some on Psychon. Then again, they were considered to be more like small vultures in some ways. Had their place, but not otherwise appreciated much. Maybe no one transformed into them. I don't know. Or maybe the variety here is extremely...."

"Stupid?" Lena provided. "I called them stupid before, but didn't think I might be literally correct."

"I still find it... odd. Inconsistent that this large of a form would have less mentality than an insect. I am very sensitive to living forms, when I extend that sense. I can sense it, but.... There are a lot of odd things about this planet, about this thing above us," she said, waving her hand above her at the Alkinarda nebula above them. "Though its name of Deep'torn Space of the Giants' Fury is fairly well-known, I think, Psychons are the only ones who had legends referring to its sudden appearance, and always found it somewhat repelling in many ways. I'm starting to think maybe we had good reason for staying away from here." Maya seemed to catch hold of herself then, adding, "I doubt we can penetrate that shield any more than the one at Glasscit."

"What about tunneling underneath?" Alexander asked.

Tony made a funny sound, then said, "If someone wanted so badly wanted to destroy the biome that they'd use an exponential bomb against it, I doubt they would have ignored the tunneling possibility."

"Tony is correct. The glass ring we saw isn't just from the shield rubbing on the sandstone, but from penetrating it. It isn't just a dome, but a sphere, patterned to allow the soil and bedrock to remain, though it has apparently hardened it over long stretches of time, somehow."

"What powers all this, Maya?" Alexander asked.

"Oh, I'd normally say the potential shield'generation sources are numerous, but on this scale, and over this length of time? I'm not sure I know of a possibility. This is far beyond Psychon technology."

Another dead end.

Relative silence remained for almost a minute, everyone looking around at one thing or another as the shield quietly boomed around them, only to make the shedding sound, muffled at this distance.

Flight 4 interrupted with a communication. They reported quickly that redoing the "greetings" signal and beaming it from space and via the omnidirectional relay left on the bridge had been fruitless. There was a pause, some interference-laden cross-talk, then news that Flight 3's second team had its first station fragment ready for a haul, and the window would be opening in five minutes.

John and Maya turned to Eagle 1 to supervise and control another burn, when Flight 4's remaining report stopped them in their tracks. Flight 4 itself had been doing a detailed orbital survey of the planet, and in processing the results of orbital photographs of the same 'rotten' city Osgood's team had visited, had discovered a curiosity: another possible exponential bomb, not far from where the team had landed. Apparently its crashed shape had not stood out so close to all the other debris there.

"Someone really wanted to make sure this world was buried," Tony commented.

"The Orcayi's enemy, the Korai?" Alexander asked.

Maya paused, but quickly shook her head. "The Kor'ayi were the Orcayi's equal, roughly, according to the legends. Exponential bombs and possible soil poisoning seem far too primitive."

"Could the legends have exaggerated them?"

"Possibly, but..." she waved her hand towards the shielded biome, and continued, "this, and its asymmetrical yet symmetrical counterpart at Glasscit is far in advance of this bomb. The Bridge itself, most likely even more so. The Kor'ayi could not have been much less powerful, or they would hardly fit the legends. I accept that some parts of the legends may be exaggerated, but much does not seem that way."

She was perhaps sounding a little defensive, but she had stood her ground over the danger of the Alkinarda, and it sounded like the same thing here. Even Alexander, who had been touchy about any sign of potential arrogance, however misplaced his earlier complaints had been, seemed to accept that the scales of technology displayed by exponential bomb -- however impressive its 'yield' -- and shielded biome seemed very different.

"Maya, time for the haul."

"Of course, Commander."

They disappeared into Eagle 1, followed a minute later by a fatigued-looking Alexander.

Pedro wandered off to investigate the coldbirds, sitting at some distance to sketch them and watch their behavior. He got an occasional dive bombing, but was otherwise tolerated.

After twenty more minutes, the Commander emerged from Eagle 1. "Okay, that was actually two more station hauls were completed, making for three. Otherwise, we've all been coming up pretty empty. Lots of information. Little results. The 'rotting cities' were essentially useless to us, though Eagle 1 will still swing by one on its way back just to make sure we have a direct look. This biosphere is impressive, but locked away, a living museum it seems. We can't crack it in time, if at all. Outside it, the soil seems to be hostile to life. No one has spotted signs of life in the ocean. Unless someone thinks we're missing something, it seems this world is uninhabitable for us."

The silence made it clear no one had other ideas on this line.

"Fine, we'll start deploying more to Glasscit then, in stages. It's still a few hours before the Alkinarda sufficiently lights up Glasscit for on-foot investigation. Eagle 4, you have that much time to make further exploration, closer to the biome. Then finish any short-term experiment here, and pack it up. Fly around the force field and make sure we haven't overlooked something elsewhere outside its circumference. When your time is up, head for Glasscit. You'll get further orders at that time."

"Yes, Commander," Fraser affirmed.

"Sanderson's team is having mild luck with other resources. We'll leave them deployed for such, at least for now. Osgood's is already at Glasscit. I've directed them to start searching for signs of a light anywhere in the city while it is still dark. The remaining Flight 2 team will redeploy from its dead city to Glasscit as well. Any ideas for finding this key to opening the actual Alkinarda bridge will be welcome. Continue working small finds through Flight 4, but anything that seems big, alert me directly."

It would eventually put four Eagles in Glasscit, the original Flight 1 team and Flight 5 team, in Eagles 1 and 4 respectively, plus two of the original three Flight 2 teams.

The two teams here parted, Koenig and Verdeschi boarding Eagle 1. Maya and Karedepoulos were both sleeping on board the Eagle. John and Tony launched the Eagle, but soon sent Tony back for some sleep. They were not going sub-orbital at all, but low-atmosphere and thus relatively slow, John keeping half an eye on the forward monitor for anything else of interest in the generally featureless cool desert.

Oddly, as he approached another dead city, he found one. It was another exponential bomb, this one looking either worse off from the crash, or crashed far longer ago. It made some sense though. Not long after this world was abandoned, Glasscit and the biome apparently turned into 'locked museums stand[ing]' -- someone may have tried to bomb multiple targets, and then someone might have tried again later at the only two targets that had not 'rotted' mostly away: the one city and the biosphere. Yet it seemed stupid to try again when evidence of earlier attempts were apparently around, so why? I could be misinterpreting what I'm seeing, John thought, realizing fatigue was starting to creep up on him. Or it is simple arrogance, that earlier failures by one people don't necessarily prevent another from thinking they can succeed.

He settled the Eagle close to this largely crumbled city, unexplored by any other team. They weren't going to explore so much as take a look.

Maya was already awake and waking the other two. All four were a bit bleary-eyed as they stepped out. On this part of the planet, halfway from the biome to Glasscit, the Alkinarda was only half-risen. This was better than the other direction where it would be mostly set and the dim orange-red of Red Sun wouldn't illuminate a city much.

They were relatively close, only a hundred meters from the edge. He could have gotten closer, but there was a part of a building still standing forty meters high, and Flight 2 had consistently reported these to be in poor state.

Karedepoulos gave a low whistle. "I don't know what these were made of, but assuming there at least somewhat stronger alloys than in human buildings, this could easily be tens or hundreds of thousands of years of crumbling here."

"Any chance a key of some sort might be in one of these?"

"Needle in a gazillion haystacks," Tony immediately stated.

Maya gave him a baffled look, then said, "The odds of finding a key of unknown nature in twenty-three crumbling cities seems infinitesimal."

"I just said that," Tony said.

She gave him another odd look, then said, "Oh, another Terran metaphor. I think I understand; but to what power of ten is a gazillion?"

"You're guess is as good as mine."

Maya finally just laughed and said, "I'm starting to wonder if you just like making up words just to confuse me."

"Well, I don't know how much longer I'll get the chance," Tony joked.

John had to smother a small smile. Yes, rather different than their initial fractious meeting and mixed interactions for awhile afterwards. They definitely seemed to be friends now.

The moment passed, and a little more serious discussion netted nothing useful, so they moved on, heading the remaining distance to Glasscit, Tony piloting this time, an eye out for possibly interesting signs, then having to pilot the Eagle by radar as the Eagle outran the Alkinarda's light.

John had finally relaxed enough -- or just got too tired -- and caught some sleep, while Alexander did the same. Maya had to consult with Alibe on the interference patterns.

Tony was alone up front as he flew, and after a little while, he stopped hearing Maya's voice. She wouldn't get much more sleep, though, for it would not be much more before they reached Glasscit. It had been an otherwise quiet flight for him except a brief report from Flight 4 except the discovery of yet another exponential bomb, this time beyond the edge of Glasscit. Tony knew this news could wait, but still shook his head. The planet was apparently littered with the fish ships.

F-396 DAB 0440-0810: Bridge of Power, Bridge of Control

When Eagle 1 arrived back at Glasscit again, the city's night was giving way to one of its dawns: the 'hideously long blue' one, as the Alkinarda Complex started rising.

Nothing had been found at night, adding to the sense of time ticking away. Eagle 4, formerly the sole Eagle of Flight 5, eventually glided in at 05:00, right when enough of the blue stars had risen to give a pale, dim blue glow to the city. It was a city of beauty -- and a city of frustration.

Eagle 4 reported they had done a circuit around the biosphere, and found three more exponential bombs, dozens of coldbird roosting grounds, had landed to take closer pictures of the biosphere's life, and had found an attempt at digging a tunnel under the shield. It was only tall enough for shorter humans to stand comfortably, and it had been a short tunnel, only thirty meters long, going only about ten meters deep into the ground. As expected, only led to shield sign.

Who knew which of the city versus the biome was "one of need, one of past." To the Alphans, both seemed like both now, the lines blurred. Maybe that's what the line really meant anyway.

Someone in one Eagle remarked, not for the first time, about the oddity of cities as near perfect circular areas, Glasscit slightly larger but all of similar size.

Increasingly thin suggestions trickled in, spread widely by Flight 4, and with increasing numbers of multi-Eagle communications, now that most Eagles on the planet were now here, trying to net any new ideas.

Oddly, one weak but previously overlooked idea put Eagle 1's team back on the bridge some hours later. Maybe the exact center of the bridge -- or technically the exact segment of the road between the two bridges it actually was aside from the high beams connecting the two -- was a key spot. Maybe not the key, but some clue?

No one had thought of this possibility.

What was found there was a small circle in the middle of the road, not noticed before for its small size and similar designs embedded on the portion of the road that extended over the large central rock. There was some tiny writing on it, in the Orcayi language, true name unknown. Maya read the text.

"Onto this rock landed a ship. Even we do not know if it was seafaring or spacefaring anymore. Strong site for a grand city. We apparently saw two sides, and choose both. Almost after the ship was destroyed, it was replaced with the first bridge of many. This one was said to have been replaced several times before this last version. A bridge here first, and here last. We hail this part of our history, the very center of our city, Eemochawren, the first of its design."

"It is the longest and clearest statement I've seen anywhere here," Maya stated. "However, other than providing the name of the city, it is just history."

Of course, the historical statement was under thirty centimeters of force field. It didn't look like a button. Trying a laser shot at it turned out to be pointless, for it wouldn't fire. Beaming the greetings+keywords recording directly at it with the antenna end of commlock did nothing. Shining a flashlight right at it provoked no reaction. For some time, they were stymied, all clustered around a tiny circle not even ten centimeters across.

"Dammit," Tony finally said. "Doesn't mention anything about this bridge being a bridge of Power and Control. I'm starting to agree with Rodolono's frustration."

"Maya, what is that part of the poem about that starts with Bridge of Power?" Alexander asked.

She quoted that part of the poem:

Bridge of Power,
Bridge of Control
Over the Deeply
Troubled Waters.

Tony turned towards them. "Wait, I wonder if that means one bridge or two."

"This is already two bridges looking kind of like one," Alexander pointed out. "Maybe the center point of each one has something like this, but more meaningful."

Tony groaned, then said clearly frustrated with this bridge. "Maya, the way you translate it to English is ambiguous on whether both lines are about one bridge or two. Is the Psychon clearer?"

"No, Tony, it is not, nor in Norys or Telninar," she answered, shaking her head, then adding, "I did not consider that before."

"That's part of why we explore in teams," John said gently, both to inform her about the importance of teamwork, and to gently indicate she should not blame herself.

Alexander was still looking at the current bridge. "These are two essentially identical bridges, each with their own anchorages here at this central rock, and on opposing shores. Their only common connection is the road down here and those non-support girders above."

"One bridge is of Power, and one is of Control?" Tony said. "We've sort of touched on that possibility already. I do not see how either bridge is either one of those things."

"Nor do I," Maya agreed.

"Poetic metaphor?" John wondered.

"But this is a planet of power," Maya protested. "A known transport nexus. The stories of that are far stronger than the indication of how it is done, which is said to be kept a secret."

They stood there for a minute, looking about at the grandeur of the pair of bridges, and the sprawling city of encapsulated skyscrapers all around. All of it increasingly frustrating.

Maya was starting to feel a little worried, that she had offered an option that may be mere illusion, an elaborate deception, spread among all surrounding worlds to only add to it, that she had spread to the Alphans.

The Commander must have picked up on her growing unease, for he stepped up to her and quietly said, "Don't worry yet. There is something about this city that tells me you are far more likely right."

"And if I am not? I was horribly wrong back on Psychon--"

"This is far different."

She gave him that familiar dubious look that had, he noticed for the first time, declined in frequency lately, and said, "It is still based on my knowledge."

"And your knowledge has been proving very accurate for many weeks now." Her concern did not appear all that mollified, so he added, "We can cross that bridge -- er -- when we get to it. Besides--"

"Maybe there are two bridges here, to the engineer and scientist," Tony said, "but that seems more like a technicality to me."

John stepped away, pulled his commlock from his belt, and: "Koenig to Eagle 4."

"Eagle 4. Fraser here."

"Bill, have your continued scans picked up signs of another bridge?"

"Nothing anywhere close... size of the one you're at."

"What about much smaller?"

"Nothing I have noticed; but I will check the... more. I have to say... is only so much the scan... pick up, and I'm not even get... good a result as I would expect even..., probably from the damp... field."

"Relay to the other two Eagles here to look for any other bridges, at all, of any size. The interference among us here seems slightly less than trying to contact Flight 4 at this point."

"Yes, sir. New search focus... other bridges."

The statement about scanner problems worried John. Plus.... He turned back to the others. "How could there not be another, smaller bridge anywhere in a city of this size? Speculate."

Karedepoulos thought for a second. "Flat terrain, no tributary rivers, or rivers taken underground, alternate transportation underground as well. We didn't see any freeways."

"Free'ways?" Maya asked.

"Multi-lane, non-stop, limited-on-and-off-ramp roadways for surface vehicles, sometimes offset vertically."

"Oh." She then ran a quick calculation, using her observations of their collective progress and found limitations so far, and reached a sobering conclusion. "Commander," Maya said. "This city covers approximately 3058 square kilometers. With scanners impeded, telescopic magnification making the field of view so narrow, and peoples' eyes limited, it could take days."

"It must be a small bridge," John said. "Maya, how much can you think intelligently inside a larger bird than a falcon?"

"Well," she thought for a few moments, "I know the reezeekor soars well, has keen eyesight, is powerful, where I can think a little ways over a wide problem'space and deep over a limited problem'space." At their somewhat blank looks, she clarified. "If I concentrate enough on one task I can think fairly intelligently on it. Actually, I think it is the bird you based the name of your spacecraft on, or something similar."

"Huh, okay, good. Start searching. Don't return here or the Eagle. We may explore on foot or in flight. When you have to revert, report back in from wherever you happen to land," he said, already getting semi-comfortable with giving sensible orders tailored to a metamorph.

"Yes, Commander."

"Oh, and Maya," Tony said. "Don't concentrate so much you and the other Eagle collide."

She smiled at the funny "collision" of Alphan terminology. "No, Tony. The eagle has good instincts."

Tony watched again as the Psychon/Alphan woman transformed herself into what was clearly a so-called bald eagle, sure enough -- complete the crown of white feathers. It was still in awe watching the change, but kept it from his face, and soon turned professional in thought.

Even the section between the two main bridges had metal and cables, all encrusted by force field, so again, he let her climb on his arm. This time, her weight was more considerable, and her talons' grip on his arm was stronger. Again, she seemed to be taking care not to grip too hard, though that probably made her grip less firm, so he tried hard not to jostle her, and she only had to start spreading her wings once, without auditory protest.

Something about this whole situation abruptly struck him as mildly absurd, carrying a pretty, shape-shifting alien woman, who was now not a woman at all but an eagle perched on his arm, to the edge of a large, mysterious bridge in the middle of an "patterned force field"-encased city on a planet mere dozens of light-years from a bunch of blue giants "shepherding" a nebula cocooning a huge rip in space that their run-away Moon was headed towards.

It was not what he had signed up for, in what seemed like another time now; yet at the same time, it was all rather exciting -- if somewhat frustrating at recent moments.

Finally, he was able to reach his arm beyond the edge of the bridge and its encased vertical elements. Maya/eagle, with a hard push down on her feet, against Tony's arm, launched herself into the air. Almost immediately, she began flying towards the shore opposite of the Eagle ship, again pursued by coldbirds.

John watched Maya/eagle glide away and then start flapping some, clearly not finding thermals over the water and flying straight for the shore to try gaining more altitude there, he suspected.

Seeing her turn into what was the spitting image of the national symbol of the United States, had been used in Apollo 11's emblem, and via the latter had given its name to Alpha's fleet of spaceships, made him wonder again exactly how widespread some species were, or by what other means she might have learned the form of this species.

He stopped and took out his commlock. "Koenig to Eagle 4."

"Eagle... here," Fraser said. Despite the Eagle being over the city, the connection was still not perfect, indicating it was now at some distance.

"Anything?"

"Still nothing. It... lot of city to cover."

"Understood. I have sent Maya up to search too. She is an eagle -- a bird. Confirm." The connection was, if anything, poorer.

"Maya is a bird, an eagle, and is searching too."

"Do not look for her. Eyes on the search. She will keep her distance from you; but if you happen to spot her, keep your distance as well. And make sure she seems safe."

"Right, Co... der." The static was worse again. "Eyes on... search. Maya... safe. Will relay again."

It was a close-enough confirmation, so John signaled the end to the conversation.

"Maya certainly makes procedures more... interesting," Tony said with a smile that indicated he now thought it was a good interesting.

John nodded, glad to see Tony had finally been letting the last of his guarded nature about her fade more. Whatever the last part of him that seemed to see her as some sort of "threat" in some vague, ill-defined way had apparently vanished. His ill-mannered harping about how she had helped Mentor in small ways back on Psychon, and similar such worries, had finally disappeared.

F-396 DAB 0805-0840: Maya Soaring

The eagle's instincts, given Maya's desire to gain as much altitude as possible, took her towards the shore, seeking out thermals to start soaring on.

She had to shriek at a number of cold'birds, and once again was eventually forced to make a grabbing motion at one of them, a gesture that was fortunately wired as a defensive instinct, though she suspected it was also wired as a food-catching instinct. She could not know, because she had replaced the food-gathering and sexual instincts with reversion instincts, some base instructions, and connections to parts of her own mind.

Maya/eagle reached the shore, started feeling thermals, and was soon able to stop beating her wings as much and start climbing faster, soon leaving the cold'birds below her. Apparently, the shield here did not have interference patterns preventing the escape of infrared. It was an exhilarating feeling gliding higher and higher almost without flapping, even as she turned her focus towards the search, for paths wingless creatures could take over low spots.

She had enough of her mind in the eagle to know they were called bridges, but had duplicated the instructions in lower level thought patterns too, just in case something buried in the eagle's instincts could make the search more efficient somehow, something her father had taught her was sometimes useful in borderline creatures where she might be tempted to think she had enough of a small piece of her mind present to ignore some other possibilities of the animal's brain.

She searched as she skipped from thermal to thermal and climbed over parts of the city. After a quarter of her allotted time, she reached an altitude where eagle instincts resisted further climb, given the thinning oxygen levels. This planet's partial pressure of oxygen was somewhat lower. She started staying out of the thermals a little more, only needing to maintain a relatively steady altitude now.

She looked around the whole time. The first thing she noticed besides buildings and smaller birds below her was a large, white, misshapen bird without wings, at almost the same height and heading somewhat her direction. That, she had not brought in enough mind to interpret, only needing to know to stay away from it, for which the eagle'bird instincts were sufficient. She wheeled another direction and sailed out of its path.

F-396 DAB 0835-0845: Static

Alibe shook her head. The static was worsening. Already, it was getting difficult to talk with the surface teams, and since the Commander's own Flight 1 had grown significantly, he had further delegated relaying information through Bill's Eagle or another. Understandable. It would still be more than a day before this became an untenable situation, but it was certainly complicating things.

However, that Flight 1 was now cross-communicating heavily, and only Sanderson's team from the now shrunk Flight 2 was exploring elsewhere, actually simplified Alibe's job in other ways, for there was less diverse details and less information to coordinate, with Flight 2 having shrunk and Flight 5 having been dissolved, most merging with Flight 1. That left only Flights 3 and 4, both in orbit. Flight 3 was on its second cycle of hooking up to station debris, and Flight 4 was routine. The Combat Eagle among them had not seen the slightest action -- fortunately. Everyone else had.

Alibe was even able to grab some longer stretches of sleep, Yasko running backup. The latter was a communications trainee, who was awkward, with a seemingly incomplete command of English, yet eager and capable. A curious combination. Alibe wasn't so sure what Sandra saw, skills-wise, but....

The test signal they were running to Eagle 1, set up an hour ago to track the interference, was spiking again. Whether it had this same pattern of increases and declines before was unclear, but regardless, the overall trend was worsening. It seemed the planet didn't want them to linger.

Nonetheless, an order did come through from the Commander indicating that Sanderson's team should join Flight 1 at the city, and join the aerial search for any bridge sign or other points of new curiosity. Flight 2 was now dissolved as well. All Eagles in Kaskalon's atmosphere were dedicated to Flight 1, five total. Sanderson sounded annoyed, and he gave her some static about Koenig's order, briefly. She thought nothing of it.

F-396 DAB 0845-0905: High Perch

Maya's time as an eagle bird was running low, so she sought out cooler, sinking air, folded her wings slightly, and let herself lose altitude.

She knew she did not want to lose all the altitude, however, so she sought out the tallest perch she could find, and after five minutes of losing height, then speed, she approached a giant, square, branchless "tree/rock," that had a good-looking spot to land on its square, low-walled top. It was difficult, for the wind was strong up here. The part of her Psychon mind present recalled the stronger and more swirling wind in the more complicated gap of the two-part building, yesterday, but tried to use this as reassurance this would be a lot less risky. However, there was still, besides the wind, that other complication which she had already had to fight bird instincts on this planet a few times already....

She had to start flaring for a landing thirty centimeters higher than her eyes told her to do so. Not that thirty centimeters caused as much fear in the eagle as twice that would, but it was enough to give Maya a challenge, and given the wind, she had to abort her first landing attempt, circle around, and try again. The second try, she pressed past the fear, forcing her wings to cup the air "early," as well as put her feet down before she normally would have. With only the slightest startlement in her avian form, her claws reached invisible "ground" and in a moment, she folded her wings, triggering her metamorphic reversion instructions and instincts.

Maya stood up, some of her hair blowing around in the strong wind, admiring the incredible view with her own Psychon eyes for a few moments. It was a vast, gorgeous alien city, and she could see much of it up here. The planet scarcely had any clouds, or haze, and the city's full size was laid out as she walked about the roof. It had been half her life since she had seen a city, and never in her life had she seen one this large. Though she was walking on one of the tallest, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of buildings of at least half its height in the nearby area, slowly falling to shorter but still impressive buildings after a few kilometers, but then climbing to even taller ones near the river. The bridge across the river was plainly visible between buildings. There were clusters of such tallest buildings scattered about here and there in the distance, but even between them, there were still other buildings a quarter or so the height of the one she was one. There was considerable variety in the shapes and colors, though most were some variation of highly glass-covered -- the glass sometimes of different shades of color. What metal framing was visible matched a few alloy colorations well, and she thought some were perhaps a platinum-titanium alloy.

After a minute, knowing time was ticking, as the Terrans mysteriously said, so she put aside her self-indulgence and took out her commlock.

"Maya to Commander Koenig."

The first thing John noticed about Maya in the commlock's screen was some of her free hair blowing about her face. "Where are you?" he started asking, then abruptly realizing where the metamorph may have gotten -- alighted -- quickly added, "A skyscraper?"

"The last word did not come through well. I am on top of a tall building, some distance from the true center of the city."

As there was essentially no static on the line -- she was probably only a kilometer or two away -- he could only assume she didn't know the word 'skyscraper' yet.

"Skyscraper means very tall building. Are you safe?"

"Thank you. It is windy, but I am fine."

"Have you found anything?"

"No, but I am able to see lots of the small structures quickly over wide areas, so I feel I can still be useful in this task."

"We are going to join the search in probably ten or fifteen minutes. The buildings are as inaccessible as expected. Continue your search for another bridge."

"Yes, Commander. Another full period?"

"Confirmed; but on that point, Tony has an idea on how to catch your attention if we need to."

"Yes? How?"

Tony explained: "If you see the Eagle approach you somewhat, and flash lights at you four times, pause, then four times again, and so on, do you think you can take that as a signal to follow the Eagle down and land?"

"In eagle form... yes, confirmed. I can watch for that."

"Okay, resume scouting. But Maya?"

"Commander?"

"Be careful, and do not take any needless risks."

Unfortunately, Maya already did have to take something of a risk. So concerned had she been for the landing, she had not considered how the wind would complicate the take-off.

She thought for a few moments with her own mind, then transformed with some of those thoughts, to mix in eagle'instincts. The solution was a little unusual for this bird to do: a running takeoff.

Right now, most of the wind was above her head, blocked by the low wall. She walked over to one side of the building, started running -- still finding the invisible but solid and friction-filled surface of the shield disconcerting -- towards where the wind would be coming from. At first, she only held her wings out for balance, not lift, but as she ran out of room, she opened her wings for lift, jumping into the air, and with a jerk, suddenly found herself in the airstream, pushed back a little but still reaping the benefits of flapping into the wind, until she found comfortable flight and then gliding again, and resumed the search.

Tony had the binoculars back out, scanning for Maya in the seconds after John finished his conversation with her. Far from being afraid in this setting, she seemed to have a little bit of naive recklessness in her. Landing on top of a windy building did not seem the wisest thing. This made Tony a little more worried about her.

He looked in the general direction he thought she was, scanning another batch of taller skyscrapers, not seeing Maya herself, but then catching sight of a small, flying speck.

"I have her again, I think. I can't tell how far away, though."

For the first time, he briefly lost track of the fact she was a humanoid alien currently in the form of a flying Earth bird, only thinking it was Maya, and that he hoped she would stay safe.

He had to stop checking, though, for Eagle 1 was going to take to the air as well to rejoin the search for a separate bridge in the city on the planet whose dampening field was increasingly interfering with detectors.

F-396 DAB 1000-1140: Directions

With one eagle and five Eagles in the air over Eemochawren, which the Alphans continued to call Glasscit as a codeword, they scoured the over 3000 square kilometer city. Nearly an hour went by. Flight 4 reported in, with even more interference, that Flight 3 was getting closer to the next round of Hauler burns.

With them in orbit and Eagle 1 -- from where Maya had been directing the course -- on the planet, it was starting to become unclear how this would work, for even with the data being compact and automatically error checked, there were signs data connections were starting to degrade as well.

"Maya to... 1. Eag.... Co... Koe?"

"Go ahead, Maya, we copy -- barely."

"I... something... unusu... good, I... ink... we want...."

John and Tony looked at each other, with some partial relief on their faces. The first possible break in awhile.

"Where are you?"

"I cannot... exact loc.... I... in the southeast quad... of..., at bear... 115-125 from... arge bridge... ter, approx... 22-28... from it. Should we rende... our... nal landing loca... near the large...?"

The interference was bad, and that and the approximate location put her on almost the opposite side of the city now.

He knew she was asking about a rendezvous point near the large bridge, where they had first landed. It was more on their way, but would draw her away from the location and take her some flight time. "Negative, Maya. Time is of the essence. We have your bearing but not your range. Are you safe to take to the air again and circle above the new bridge?"

"Yes, Comma... safe.... do so."

"How long before you're at a good height to be spotted?"

"... one... moderate... uildings... ea, where... wind... not... bad... not have to... as much alt.... So... minutes... to regain... tude."

"Partial bad copy. Repeat time. How much time?"

"... out... minu.... 5... utes."

"Good, proceed. Koenig out."

"Partial bad copy?" Tony quoted, bemused.

"We got enough of the rest of her points, but I know what you mean. This is starting to get real bad."

They turned that direction, but took it slow, given her delay and the number of Eagles in the air. After a few minutes, they slowed further, approaching the near edge of the wedge area Maya's approximate coordinates bounded. John watched air traffic around him, while Tony used the cameras to look for Maya.

"There she is," Tony said a minute later. "About ten degrees starboard, range unclear, maybe 700 metres." As they approached, Tony finally had a better estimate, and slowed further as they approached. "Uh," Tony said, "steer to the left a little."

"I'm not seeing anything that resembles a bridge!" Alexander yelled from the back, obviously using one of the Eagle cameras via a computer terminal.

"You think it is a small bridge?" Tony asked John.

"Or not a bridge at all."

"Right," Tony said, "we didn't get a description from Maya about what she found."

"Then let's just pick a spot below and land."

The settled into a spot in the air and John was about to descend....

"Wait, John."

John looked up, and saw the eagle, Maya, flapping in place directly in front of them, staring at the Eagle.

"I think she already has a spot in mind," Tony speculated.

She turned and flew another few hundred meters further ahead. The Eagle followed the eagle, the latter then starting to hover in flight, flapping her wings, as the former drew closer, carefully. Then Maya dove out of view.

John checked the radar scan. "There is a good spot right below."

Trusting Maya would stay out of harm's way, John started easing the Eagle to the ground. In a minute, they landed, again on top of a "highly patterned force field." They disembarked -- and once again, there were more coldbirds around the area -- but no Maya.

"Maya?" Tony called.

The eagle's screech behind and above them was startling, and they turned to see Maya perched on one of the skeletal beams of the Eagle's spine. Maya screeched a few more times, this time upwards, to another group of coldbirds, who were keeping some distance from her -- and John, Tony, and Alex.

"Okay, Maya."

But she kept screeching at the other birds. Finally, wondering just how it worked in the first place, to connect a Psychon mind with an eagle's brain, and thinking maybe, it did not quite work that way (like something Maya had said in a different context), it finally occurred to Tony to hold out his arm.

Maya quickly noticed, and flew down, but to the ground instead, and reverted.

"Sorry, Tony, these cold'birds are more persistent, and you didn't have extra wrapping around your arm."

The others looked around and then at Maya.

"So where is the bridge?" John asked. "Is it a bridge?"

"Yes, it is. Down this path, on the other side of these small buildings."

The coldbirds were soon pestering the team again.

"What are these birds after when they do this?"

"My understanding is they travel in... mobs, and each group is highly territorial."

"Why attack us?"

"We are in their territory."

She stopped abruptly, and stared at a dead coldbird on the ground. Tony and John could see she looked sad.

"I think this is one I had to scare away earlier. I didn't touch it."

"Fragile?"

"I... looked at... sensed a couple of them in the city, curious about the reversion problem I mentioned before, and found that even if I could somehow metamorphose into one of them at this point, I would not want to turn into one of them for some reason that I am not sure about. Perhaps they are very old, almost dying. The one back where Bill was, did not feel that way."

"They come to the city to die? Why?"

Maya shook her head. "Since I cannot fully proceed with the transformation, there are certain things I cannot start doing, and certain things I cannot learn about their instincts. So I don't know."

"I wonder why we don't see skeletons of them all over the city," Alexander commented.

Still, they were pests, and started proving such again.

Maya straightened, still looking sad, and Tony suddenly realized more than ever about how much she cared about living things, even ones not particularly appealing in nature.

Still, even Maya looked irritated at their behavior even if saddened by their state and the dead one. When one started dive bombing her, she abruptly turned, narrowed her eyes, raised her arms, and with her own voice, made a very imperfect yet still-remarkable imitation of her own previous eagle screech.

Abruptly, the coldbirds scattered, then started keeping a more respectful distance. They may have been too stupid to understand or remember Maya's metamorphosis, but they remembered her eagle, and now seemed to be getting the connection.

Behind Maya, Tony turned to John and gave him a funny look, an off-kilter smile and scrunched eyebrows, like 'sweet girl, but definitely a little alien at times.' Still, he seemed fine about it. He had grown over the last several weeks.

Just then, the commlock beeped. It turned out to be the first Hauler ready in the second round of Hauls, approaching optimal point in its orbit just twelve minutes from now.

John weighed priorities. The first hauling cycle had taken 15 hours, this second cycle over ten hours despite now knowing good techniques on these particular metal/alloy chunks. They could wait for another orbit, but that could push the third and what was almost certainly going to be final hauling cycle over what was starting to feel like the limit here, right around 23:00 or 24:00.

"Okay, returning to the Eagle. Koenig out. Let's hustle."

There was good reason, for when Maya reached her station, John watched as she looked at semi-garbled pre-burn information scrolling out of the computer terminal. The interference was too much for even computer systems to handle simple data streams.

"Maya, is this acceptable?"

"No, Commander, this is insufficient."

"Tony!" he yelled towards the pilot module. "Launch as soon as possible. Minimal checks. We have eight minutes from now to get above as much of this as we can."

Maya conferred more with the pilot and Alan as well, for this piece was somewhat larger and less "streamlined," and concern had grown about differences this would create in the burn, including from engine exhaust impinging on more of the object and trying to push it backwards. However fractional that effect was compared to the forward thrust, it was an effect, and was being estimated to be more severe.

So John had to stifle the urge to ask Maya questions about what she had found. He went up front, and Tony asked if they should send in another team.

John wanted too, but for some reason, his instincts shied from that idea. He had learned to trust his gut reactions, when they came, especially on alien worlds. "No, keep them looking for other possible targets. If Maya's find fails, we may need that other information."

"Okay, I'll relay that."

John went back to listen to the burn. It began almost immediately on his return to the pod.

"Adjust initial Eagle attitude 5 degrees port, and 2 up, prepare for five percent main throttle."

"Affirm 5 port... two... five percent... throttle on your mark."

As before, Maya took over all the speaking. During simulation, the rapidly changing nature of this task required following her orders without confirmation, to keep cross-talk from interfering, even if she was sometimes pausing between instructions, as now.

"Mark, mark, throttle 5, throttle 5.

"Throttle 7, dead center.

"Throttle 10, right 2, up 1.

"Throttle 15, right 3. Mass greater than 1500.

"Throttle 20, right 4.

"Throttle 25, right 5. Mass greater than 2500.

The sequence framework seemed familiar at first, yet something inside the sequence was going strange, and John quickly focused on her words.

"Throttle 30, right 6. Mass greater than 5000."

Her mass estimates were not in the form of a range, but a fast-climbing minimum. She kept encouraging the Eagle to point further and further right, and throttle up far faster than any previous case. Her brow furrowed.

"Throttle 40, right 7. Mass greater than 12,000."

"Throttle 50, right 8. Mass greater than... ohh. Eagle 20, abort! Release, release, release!"

"Commander?" came the pilot's voice.

Maya frowned. "That was..." she started, recalling Tony's words, finishing with "an order" at the same time as Alan snapped in "an order!"

"Confirmed release. Sorry, Capt. Carter."

"Sorry who?" Carter demanded.

"My apologies, Science Advisor Maya."

"Apology accepted," she said.

"What went wrong?" John asked Maya, with everyone still on relay.

"The object's path was not being altered at all, at least to the tolerance of these orbital figures. The object is either far more dense and massive than it appears--"

"It looked like any of these other misshapen hunks of metal," the pilot said, a little defensively.

"Or it is actively resisting," Maya continued smoothly.

"Actively resisting? How?" John asked in surprise.

"Hyperspatial anchoring, perhaps."

"It was orbiting with the rest."

"Yes. A fixed hyperspatial anchor is possible, though infrequently used. Dynamic anchoring is far more difficult, though not unheard of."

"Why not the rest of them?"

"It is the only active object among those we have so far attempted to move. I think we just discovered the node -- or a node -- which may still be actively generating the Alk^inharda Bridge."

That prompted some silence for a few moments.

"The key, hidden as yet another piece of junk in a ring of debris?"

"Probably not hidden, just more heavily shielded. A concentrated patterned force field with an interference pattern to resemble metal, inside a shell of actual damaged-looking metal, remaining intact through an attack that left it wrapped in a damaged fragment of station.

"These Kaskalons with their force fields certainly made some immovable objects."

"Probably a piece that could not be destroyed."

"Could that be the control location?" Koenig asked.

Maya answered: "Nothing refers to these fragments except the 'ring of station' line. All the lines about the key are associated with the city in some way."

"True, but this may still be worth looking."

"Misdirection?" Tony asked.

"Perhaps. Or we could find a shortcut."

"Uh, I hate to interrupt the theorizing," Alan said, "but now my Eagle is ready for a burn, as well, if we can in this orbit."

Maya and Alan coordinated another burn, and this one went like the first set of three, successfully.

They returned to the topic of the unmovable object.

"It may be possible that this node may have a control interface," Maya said, "Did anyone notice unusual features on it?"

Eagle 20's pilot indicated, "We looked this one over, and did not see anything like an access point, but we could look more closely."

"Okay, detailed scans and inspection of this object," the Commander ordered. "Have Alibe send the greetings message set to beam right at it. If nothing is found or changes, contact me, but be ready to start looking for the next fragment."

As luck would actually have it, the third haul was soon queuing up.

Ten minutes later, they were heading back down for Glasscit, this time having to discuss the initial results of further scans and the greetings message. No 'open sesame' with the latter, and the former representing more inconclusive data.

By the time they were ready to talk about Maya's find again, they were almost landing, and John decided to just get another sitrep from Flight 4 and the rest of Flight 1 as they approached the city itself. The sitrep resumed after they left the Eagle and had started their walk down the hill.

Finally, caught up on other business, he focused on his surroundings.

Beyond the small buildings, non-descript even for alien structures, there was varied ground, lots of little hillocks, like someone's idea of an interesting parkscape. It was probably the reason Maya had directed them to a more distant landing. All the vegetation was absent, of course, though when Maya veered off the path, no one had to worry about getting their boots dirty here, because of the force field -- which choose that particular moment to noisily slough off another invisible layer. Maya didn't seem to react at all this time, while the rest didn't react much this time.

What was more disconcerting was the walk on the force field as it started curving up and down over the hillocks. They didn't have to go far, for beyond the first hillock, John noticed a catwalk at ground level, over some sort of small pit.

"What the..." Tony commented, echoing John's feeling. It was a bridge, of a sort, sure enough, but a tiny nothing, not even ten meters of a platform and a very sparse handrail held up by verticals every couple of meters.

It was hard to be certain at this angle, but the opening appeared to be perfectly circular, and reaching the edge, they saw it went down steeply, not at a perfect vertical, but gradually inward.

It was like a cone, but at least ten meters deep. The bottom of the cone part seemed to open into a larger space.

"You saw this from above?" Tony asked Maya, somewhat in astonishment.

"I was looking for anything like a bridge. The eagle's eyes are excellent."

"I'll say."

"How odd," Alex commented. He looked at Maya. "A metal version of a rope bridge in a park, maybe a play area, only there is this deep pit. Wait, you drew the one poem in a strange shape. That looks like a two-dimensional cross section of this. 'The city under glass' one. Does someone have a copy to look at?"

Tony did, folded up in his jacket pocket.

"It fits. So is this the 'bridge of power' I wonder?" Alex asked.

Maya shrugged, the first time John could consciously remember her doing so -- an apparently non-Psychon gesture Maya had picked up on Alpha? Or maybe he had just not noticed before.

"The word 'power' still seems ambiguous, but you are right that the shape is a reduced'dimension -- cross'section you say?"

Alex nodded to her.

"Have you been down there?" Koenig asked.

"No, I did not feel it wise to fly down there alone, or at all."

"Good decision. Why do you say not at all, though?"

"My scanner won't give me a conclusive measurement of the depth or width of that opening -- especially with this force field. I suspect there is interference from computers or other devices down there too -- maybe."

"Tony, you and Alexander run back for ropes, harnesses, and other rappelling equipment. Make it fast."

John looked at Maya. "Is there a force field covering the bridge?"

"Yes, Commander."

"You know, seeing this three-dimensional version of the poem's shape reminds me of a straightened-out version of a simplified diagram of black sun gravitational forces towards a singularity."

Maya smiled. "All the symbolic references rapidly convinced me this was very significant, even before I scanned for signs of technology down there. It is the only other bridge I have seen."

"Good find, Maya."

She nodded slightly, before an awkward "thank you."

"Any idea what sort of devices may be down there?"

"None, except if this is perhaps the 'bridge of control' instead, I would hope there are controls."

"The key."

"I hope."

Tony and Alex returned with the equipment, and they spent the next several minutes preparing. Fortunately, the tiny bridge's railing was far enough from its main body that the force field encrusting the whole combination still allowed them to tie ropes around the force field covering the railing.

It made them a little nervous, giving a look of weakness. Ropes tied firmly around something seemed much better than around what looked like nothing but air.

Everyone had had some degree of survival training, Alphan version, including Maya and Karedepoulos. It was time to put part of it to use.

First, however, Koenig decided a prudent step would be to bring in another Eagle as backup, to be eyes on the surface at this unusual feature. He decided to make it Eagle 4's. Bill's, mainly because of the presence of a security guard.

F-396 DAB 1210-1350: Cone, Cylinder, Tube, Cube

The rappelling process, from getting all the ropes secured and checked, everyone's harness on and checked, some cross-reminders on general methodology, and modifications for this particular situation, and then unharnessing at the bottom, had taken more than twenty minutes.

The four of them were in a small cylindrical room, five meters in diameter and three high, colored green. The only other exit was another circular hole, this one in the wall instead of the ceiling.

"No force field," Tony commented.

Maya took out her multiscanner. "Actually, we are standing on a patterned force field. Solid visual interference pattern in this case."

"Ready?" John asked.

They left the rappelling harnesses behind, but took their other kits and equipment, and went through the circular hole in the wall, which opened into a long, moderately-sloping tube, which had ever-changing patterns on it.

"Also interference patterns in the force field. The shape is probably a metaphor for the true shape of the Alk^inharda Bridge," Maya estimated.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Tony said, half seriously, half jokingly. Maya gave him a look, but smiled.

After over a hundred meters, they reached a room which looked like a large white cube, which Alexander's rangefinder indicated was 22.3 meters on each side. There were no other exits. It was empty. They paused, then fanned out.

It was a featureless room, except.... "Over here," Alexander called. They had all entered at floor level, at the halfway point in the one wall. He was halfway between the entrance and the next wall. "Writing on the wall. Er, you know what I mean."

"I don't understand your second comment," Maya said, seeing there was literal writing on the wall -- albeit very little of it.

"Never mind," John said. "What does it say?"

She approached, and translated. "It states: 'Say words of control, for control of access.' It is worded in a tone of instruction, but the words do not follow."

"I am getting tired of these riddles," Tony commented, exasperated.

"Say words of control," Alexander repeated, then laughed. "The Fellowship of the Ring. Tolkien. 'Speak, friend, and enter.' "

Maya looked at him, with a most amusing look of bewilderment on her face. It was Verdeschi who asked the first question.

"What are you talking about? The Lord of the Rings?"

"Is that someone you met?" Maya asked, trying to get a handle on what the humans were talking about.

"The door to Moria," Koenig softly said, looking thoughtful.

"Could it be that simple?" Karedepoulos asked.

Maya had stopped asking questions.

"Maybe," the commander said. "Let's give it a try. Alexander?"

"Maya," Alexander said. "It's from a trilogy -- a set of three fictional stories -- written by J.R.R. Tolkien. Part of it was a riddle on top of a magical doorway. 'Speak, friend, and enter.' The word to speak was 'friend', but the idea was to say it in the language it was written in."

"Friend. Oh, I understand. Say the words after the word 'Say' -- in their original language."

"Right," he nodded. She was a quick study.

She turned back to the wall, paused, and said, "Greashak tresk*za, ash y'rees trokva."

The response was immediate, silent, and startling.

"Maya, behind you," Verdeschi said, spotting the sudden appearance of a translucent table and chair -- both somewhat tall -- in the middle of the right half of the room, directly behind Maya, who was still facing the wall.

Maya turned towards them and then, observing their gazes, continued turning herself towards her right. Before she could even finish the motion, however, all three men were suddenly pushed back by something. Landing on their backsides, they got up, hurting a little, and found Maya still frozen, unmoving, in half-stride.

"A force field!" Tony shouted.

The others moved towards her, but held back slightly. She was completely motionless, except for her eyes, which were looking at the console, then at them, probably in fear. Tony reached forward towards the force field, assuming it was wall-like, like the giant one which encased the whole city.

Suddenly, they were flung backwards, and after landing, blacked out.

Maya had found herself frozen so abruptly, just as she was drawing a breath in, that her expanding ribcage felt like it was hitting something the moment the field came up. She could somehow sense she was being scanned, like there was some sort of biological eepkond'arak signal, somehow. The only muscles she could move in a useful way were for her eyes.

What had she done wrong?

Terror welled up in her as she looked for the others and saw them rushing for her, which calmed her slightly, though she had no idea what they could do for her. Her body was starting to demand she finish taking the breath she had started; but she found she could not breathe at all, her body held precisely as it was, not allowing any muscle movement one way or another.

She tried to transform, but found her instincts were not allowing her, for no reason she could discern.

She looked again at the other three. Tony was reaching out for the force field. Abruptly, they were thrown halfway across the room. Her attempt at a scream was prevented by the wall gripping her absolutely. To her horror, none of the three moved. She feared them dead. They were too far away for her to tell.

Suddenly, the field went down, and she finished the move she had started twenty seconds before, but stumbling a bit, having to put her hand on the "chair" to steady herself. Without hesitation, even as she took a deep breath, she straightened, turned, and ran towards her friends, thinking she must have made a horrible mistake somehow.

"Tony! Commander! Alexander! Wake up!"

Tony was the closest to her, and she fell to her knees next to him, and was able to tell even before she touched him that he was alive, much to her profound relief. She could then tell the others were too. Uncertain how to apply first aid training in this situation, she stood up and pulled her commlock from her belt, knowing for sure that she had to get someone else here immediately even as she considered her next move. "Maya to Eagle 4!" She could not make contact with them, however.

There was a sound at the doorway, and when she turned, she could no longer see the entrance. There was simply a solid wall, and she had no doubt it was another patterned force field, this one also with interference patterns in it to make it look opaque. She looked around, and discovered the wall to her right had become active, with a numeric display which was counting down in the alien language's numeric script, at a rate that gave about 82 more seconds to... something. She then noticed an object flashing with small blue lights. It was some sort of device, sitting on the small, tall table, just finishing opening up. It had not been there before.

Whatever it was struck her immediately as a threat, and her heart sunk, convinced she had done something wrong and was going to cost her friends their lives. She ran towards the console station, but when she started hearing an echo of her own boots from immediately in front of her, she started pulling up and putting her hands in front of her -- just in time, running into an invisible wall.

64 seconds.

If it was a bomb, behind a solid force field, there might be no worry.... She started turning back to see to the others, then abruptly, she heard a snapping sound, and startled, jumped a bit away from the force wall, then realized the extra force field had gone down. She ran to the console, but found the device was under a force field as well, but a far-thinner one, one which might fail at the start of the explosion and allow the blast to hit everyone.

48 seconds.

She tried to think of how she could perhaps disable a patterned energy barrier, but this type was alien, and its energy and emission sources both unknown. There was nothing she could do in 46 seconds. In desperation, she tried knocking the device off the console, and found she could not. She looked up at the wall, acting like a computer screen; but there was nothing on it but the countdown, and seemingly no way to access the computer.

44 seconds. The device was starting to whine at a low pitch.

She ran back to her teammates, trying to transform as she did so, into something stronger to let her haul them further away more quickly, but found her instincts were still blocking her, still for no reason she could comprehend. So when she reached them, Maya resorted to grabbing the Commander's wrists and dragging him across the smooth force field, not to the far corner, but slightly away from it, calculating the corner would concentrate any blast. There was no reason to believe anything would survive an explosion in here, but it was all she could think of doing.

She got them all in a line, then ran for the packs and threw them across the short axis of the room, ran over, lined them up. They weren't high enough. She got behind them, but feeling it was her mistake that endangered them, she remained on her hands and knees, to try to block them from direct shrapnel as best as she could.

14 seconds. Louder and higher-pitched whining.

Abruptly, again with a sound, the doorway re-appeared. Only enough time to flee herself. Not even a transformation would allow her to save the others.

With no hesitation in deciding, she stayed where she was, and in the remaining seconds, tried to think of any other protection, but could not.

Terrified yet resolute, but remorseful, she said to them, "I am so sorry."

1 second. She closed her eyes and...

... felt nothing. Felt nothing happen. Felt... still felt.

-2 seconds.

She opened her eyes. The countdown was gone. The device was gone. The door was still open.

She stood up, bewildered and shaking uncontrollably; then got back down to check on her friends, reaching forth an unsteady hand and finding them still unconscious but alive.

After a few moments being uncertain what to do, she grabbed her commlock. "Maya t-to Eagle Fo-fo-Four."

"Eagle 4 here; what is it Maya?" came the concerned voice of Bill, probably wondering why she would call, or hearing her trembling voice.

"There has been an... incident. The Commander, Tony, and Alexander are unconscious. Please send help immediately."

"Okay, we'll get in gear immediately and head down."

It didn't occur to her to wonder why his voice was clear -- interference-free.

She opened the medical kit, knowing she shouldn't try to revive them, but figuring she better at least open it up in case they suddenly got worse. She hoped they would be okay.

This would probably be the end of her short mission career. Endangering lives carelessly, though she still did not know what she had done wrong. Bill would probably be angry about this scene, though the short commlink revealed calm. Maybe they were used to things like this happening. Still....

She set aside such thoughts, too concerned about her--

She breathed her first deep sigh of relief when Tony started to stir, followed soon after by the other two.

Tony opened his eyes to Maya's concerned face.

It didn't occur to him to think of how strange it was to see her alien face. He still noticed her alien features, but it no longer mattered, and certainly didn't startle him, but rather comfort him that he was still alive and she was there.

"What happened?" Tony said, feeling a small pain shoot through his back as he raised his upper body.

Maya helped him into a sitting position, and as his eyes focused better, he realized she was shaking.

"You... I-I...."

"Easy, Maya, easy. Just take a breath."

She did, then put a hand to her chest.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked.

"The force field caught me as I was taking a breath, and stopped me in the middle. I am fine. Just a little sore. You got thrown across the room; you must be hurting a lot more."

He then noticed all the packs lined up here, instead of where they had been.

"How long were we out?"

"T-two point seven minutes."

Tony saw John and Alexander rising, and one by one, Maya helped them to their feet, each one rubbing at their back or elsewhere, clearly hurt by the fall.

Maya's commlock beeped, once and then twice.

"Maya?" Tony prompted.

"Oh." She reached for the commlock, stating, "You were injured. I called Eagle 4."

"That's good," the Commander said.

"Maya?" came Bill's voice.

"Yes," Maya said, then noticed the Commander reaching out his hand. "Bill, everyone is conscious again, and the Commander wishes to speak to you. Please wait."

"Fraser, this is Koenig. We're fine. Cancel the emergency and hold or stand down. We found some active systems, and they reacted somehow. I'm about to get some more information, but don't want to risk more people."

"Yes, sir."

The Commander turned to Maya, handing her commlock back, albeit with a hobbled step her direction, and asked what had happened.

"Forgive me, you are all hurt. I must have done something wrong. It-- I--"

"Slow down, and explain what you saw and did. Just the facts."

So she did so, this time very calmly. At they end, the three men were looking at each other.

"Like a riddle, but in action," Tony commented, irritated.

John contacted Bill, and filled him in with a few details, so that someone outside the immediate group was apprised. As he did so, Tony took Maya aside, gently by the arm. She rather liked the contact. With a smile, he asked, "So what did you change into to move us here?"

"I did not. I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"My instincts would not allow me for some reason."

He looked at her, then quietly asked, "Why didn't you mention it before?"

"I'm..." she started apologizing, then thought better of it, and said, "I should have." She turned towards the commander. She remembered Tony's advice from the 'welcome dinner' not to apologize over every little thing. She found she really didn't want to any more, having found people were increasingly accepting of her, and knowing some had been so from the start.

Tony followed a little behind her as she approached the commander. They could hear the latter's words to Fraser.

"Have one of the other Eagles land to keep an eye on the large bridge, but at some further distance than Eagle 1's original landing zone. We'll let you know before we initiate anything which might impact it, but if you notice anything, let us know."

"Copy. Oh, and I'm not trying to shed relaying activities, but you can now work through Flight 4 again. The interference has disappeared."

John's eyebrows went up. "Understood; and I accept the recommendation. Koenig out." He looked at the others here, and said, "It appears something was sensitive to our arrival and immediately started increasing interference, for it is suddenly gone. Our actions here apparently shut it off."

"For how long?" Tony asked.

"Good point. Let's.... Yes, Maya?"

When she described that she was unable to transform, the Commander asked what was preventing her, and she stated she didn't know.

"Speculate," he said.

She thought for several moments, then said, "I don't think it was something external preventing me from starting the transform, but that if I got halfway through the transformation, that I would not be able to re-form, even if I ceased the attempt."

"You could tell that at the very beginning of your attempt?"

"I'm not sure: like I said, it was instinct that stopped me."

"There's an awful lot here interfering with your ability as well. I find that rather interesting. When you have a few moments, think about it some more. For now, though...." John started walking towards the console in the other half of the room.

"Commander...." Maya started.

"No, I think it is fine now."

"Why?"

"Maya, everyone, just come here," the Commander said.

They did, and when they got close, the solid wall that was in front of where the user would sit, came to life again, this time with nothing but a large, thin outline of a blinking square.

"Maya," Tony said, "Are these... this chair and computer console made out of force fields?"

"Yes, I am certain they have to be. They weren't here before, everything around here shows deep force field expertise. Even when I touched them during the countdown, they felt like the field we've felt everywhere else.

"Maya, give it a try," John said, waving his arm at the force field 'chair.'

"Commander, last time I did something, we ended up threatened and you ended up hurt."

"We're fine. Just give this system a try."

"Still, I must have done something wrong before."

"No, I think you did everything right."

"What?"

"All of us."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked before Maya could.

"Not just a riddle like you said, Tony, but a test." He looked over to the console. "The console appears, but suddenly, Maya is in danger, and we're all trying to help her. Then the rest of us are in danger and she's free, but she is trying to help us, even when she finally could flee. No one was paying attention to the console."

"What kind of test is that? That we care about each other?" Tony said.

"Maybe. Or maybe that Maya wasn't doing this against her will."

"To get through the bridge, some signs of good intentions have to be shown?" Alexander asked.

"It seems so," John said.

"For all the trouble and time it took us, though, I could see others eventually learning the secret and faking their way through it."

"Maybe," John said. "Maya?"

Without any more hesitation she stepped up to the 'table' and climbed onto the 'chair' -- the 'screen' being the whole wall.

"Where is the keyboard?" Tony asked.

She looked about, then said, "There is none. I think this system is cued off movement." She raised her right hand, and lifted and curled her index finger and punched the air in front of her, towards where the blinking square outline on the wall was.

The large square was immediately replaced by two short strings of text, one saying "View Prior Transport" and "Request Bridge Passage" according to Maya. There were some appreciative sounds at the nature of the technology.

Despite the pressing need for the Passage, a moment of curiosity on the Prior brought up an image of a bluish-colored ship large enough that it didn't fit the screen. Maya's eyebrows scrunched together for a moment, thoughtfully. Then she lifted her hand, open but with fingers all partially curled, moved her hand slightly towards the screen, then closed her finger tips ever so slightly. The ship shrunk somewhat on the screen, its full size becoming visible. No one recognized it.

"Is this the only one to view?"

"No other options but return to the prior screen are available."

"The price of passage is a temporary loss of anonymity," Tony commented.

They moved on.

The main option brought up a considerable quantity of alien text. Alexander took a picture, then took summary notes as Maya translated the full text:

Bridge Control Access This bridge is provided as a courtesy to bypass the extensive remains of a war. Safety of lifeforms on the bridge is guaranteed if contract, which follows on this page and others, is followed. All external and internal artificial gravity fields and all external force fields or other energy/matter barriers must be nulled by time listed later. Internal versions of the latter may be maintained. Transports constructed solely of energy fields will not survive. No weapons fire will be allowed. Internal energy sources will be unaffected. If the two overlap, you may suffer energy loss. Overall external object count must remain the same. No launching or docking of secondary transports starting at time which will be listed later in this process. A scan of your transport or transports will be made on a later page to point out this system's concerns regarding it or them. Further contract details or demands may arise then. You will have later options of Refusal. After crossing bridge, it will become clear when you may resume normal activities. Further terms will appear later in this process. You will have a later chance to cancel contract before transport, but must agree to this first set of terms to continue. Agree Reject

Tony chuckled a bit. "Well, that is the most straightforward thing we've heard here yet, though maybe we should have brought our lawyer along."

John chuckled for a moment, then said, "Alexander, any concern about any of those terms, especially the one about shutting off all artificial gravity sources?"

"Alpha's AG Generator system has not been turned off since commissioning. Before, actually. It has been highly stable while still allowing swapping of individual units and partial field shutdowns. However, other then a few pieces of non-essential equipment that may be set up with the expectation of full gravity, I don't see any real problem. I cannot be fully certain, however."

"I am aware of a few science experiments are dependent on full gravity," Maya said. "I would assume nothing essential, but I cannot speak for everyone in Technical Section, just what I am aware of."

"It cannot be helped. We have to take a few minor risks to get past the major one. Anything else? We're not going to launch Eagles or fire weapons."

Tony looked at Alexander's brief notes, which captured key words and phrases. "There it is. 'No weapons fire. Internal energy unaffected. If overlap, energy loss?' Where do our Nuclear Generation Areas end up?"

"Sounds like internal energy sources are fine. Besides," Alexander said, checking his notes, "it does mention we'll be scanned for concerns."

"Okay, I guess that sounds fine for now," Tony opined.

"Anyone else?" John asked.

No one had further concerns at this point.

"Maya, proceed. We agree."

She turned her head back to the wall/screen, lifted her finger again, and this time moved it to the left and she 'pressed' it into the air 'against' the Agree button.

Only a single short line of text appeared at the top of the half of the wall serving as a screen, but below it was an intensely-detailed, full-'screen' view of Kaskalon, and text scattered elsewhere. Seven green dots were in various points in orbit, moving 'slowly' in their orbits. Three of them had the same tiny bit of text that Maya said was the number 2.

"Seven dots but three of them represent two objects each," Tony said. "That's ten. Flights 3 and 4 total that many Eagles."

"There is a single green dot on the surface, here in the city," Maya pointed out, "The symbol next to it is the number 7."

"Seven? We have only five Eagles down here," Tony stated.

"The two moonbuggies are still parked near the big bridge," John pointed out.

"I wouldn't equate a moonbuggy to a spaceship," Tony commented.

"Uses the word 'transport' generically I guess. Doesn't judge what we might want to use as a transport. That may bode well for sending the whole Moon through."

"True. This system has apparently been watching us," Tony said. "Puts up increasing interference, tracks our vehicles and movements, then lowers the interference as soon as we pass the test."

"What are those other buttons and words scattered around the screen?" John asked.

"The statement at the top says 'Select primary transport or transports; deselect secondary transports that will either be inside of primaries or will not make the journey in this session.' The bottom is a button that says Continue. Another allows changing of the colors used in this display."

"Okay, deselect all of our Eagles and moonbuggies here, since they'll all be back inside Alpha. Then find the Moon on this."

She lifted both hands now, her two fingers dancing in the air as she deselected each green dot, each of which turned red. When she hit the single collective dot on the surface, a view of the city appeared, with the dots mostly separated, a few of them moving. Maya deselected those as well.

John paused, then said, "Tony, cancel the city-wide search. Keep Eagle 4 here with us, and send the rest to orbit."

One dot had another numeric label, and Maya 'tapping' that also brought up a zoomed view, allowing her to deselect Eagles 1 and 4 as well.

"Done. All fifteen Eagles and two moonbuggies are deselected. Zooming out to find the moon."

This made for some more complicated hand motions from Maya, starting with the same finger-closing motion -- a few times -- to zoom out, and then Maya making one hand look like she was grasping something spherical, and rotating her whole wrist, to rotate the view about one axis. She made another such motion but rotated her wrist differently, to skew around another axis. Several varying hand motions later, the Moon came into view. It was not shown in green, but a number of objects in orbits were represented by green dots.

"Part of Flight 6," Tony supplied immediately. "The partially deployed Combat Eagle wing. The rest might be our satellite network. Looks about the right number of dots."

"None of the alien ship debris that remains in orbits?" Alexander asked.

"This system apparently identifies them as debris," Tony stated.

The Commander frowned. "Maya, leave the satellites selected. Try finding and selecting a piece of debris to see if it works; we may still want that metal. Find Flight 6 and deselect it, and anything on the surface. Then try to find a way of selecting the whole Moon."

"Yes, Commander. I know all the satellite orbits. This dot here must be the Eagle."

"Zoom in to verify."

She did so without any sign of protest, and the familiar Eagle shape appeared, colored green. She duly deselected it, then, in a complex dance of her hands, soon had focus on a large piece of alien ship debris. She tried 'tapping' it, then 'drawing' a circle around it. Nothing happened. "It is probably recognized as an inert object," she speculated.

"That does not bode well for the Moon," Tony commented.

"Well, the Moon is not entirely inert, since we're on it," John said.

"Hmm, I hope this alien computer agrees," Alexander stated.

On the currently-displayed half of the Moon, which did not include Alpha, there were several dots, which she deselected. John wondered why there were so many, then remembered a few of the Selene Program vehicles, though abandoned, perhaps could still be considered usable.

"Tony, call Alibe and inform her that as soon as Alpha is in range, to have Helena recall all Exploration survey missions immediately, cancel all training flights, any moonbuggies unless of immediate need before we reach the bridge."

Maya then used a 'rotate' motion again with her whole hand and wrist, and brought the other face of the Moon around. There was a green dot with a number label next to it, in a familiar location. Alpha. Plus numerous other dots, which she deselected first, without requiring any zooming in. John nodded to himself. One more survey team, a couple more Selene Program sites, and one that puzzled him for a moment, until he remembered Apollo 19, the last of the Apollo Program. While some of the abandoned Selene vehicles were identified as potential transports and some weren't -- about what John would have expected from many years sitting on the Moon -- he was surprised that this alien system considered Apollo 19's lower stage still potentially functional, 27 years later.

Maya's 'tapping' on Alpha's location made it zoom in on Alpha and its immediately outlying structures. There were two Eagles on pads, probably the remainder of Flight 6. Two moonbuggies that were usually parked outside. Plus one in motion, perhaps on a routine activity. She proceeded to deselect those as well.

She then zoomed back out to a full view, and with her right hand's index finger, then 'tapped' on the Moon, and when that failed, tried 'drawing' a circle 'around' it, then a square. Nothing happened.

There were disappointed sounds all around. This was not good.

They stared at the screen showing the Moon. So close. They were staring at what they wanted to go through the Bridge, on the very system which apparently controlled that Bridge, but it wasn't being accepted.

"What is that number in the lower right corner, Maya?"

She listed the number, and stated it was the same as the number of satellites in orbit.

"I have a hunch."

"A what?"

"An idea. Deselect all of them, until the counter reaches zero."

There were enough satellites that this took nearly a minute, especially since some were currently on the far side of the Moon, and she had to rotate the Moon again.

"Maya, when you're done, bring the Near Side back into view, just in case it brings up some other marker near Alpha."

The counter symbol changed rapidly, then radically, and other text appeared. "No transport selected," she translated as she rotated the Moon's image to bring Alpha's location back into view.

"Now try the Moon."

The tapping motion again did not work. She tried the circle motion. The whole Moon suddenly was suddenly tinted green, but only for a moment, before reverting, then blinking green tint again. On its own, the view abruptly shrunk the Moon slightly, shifted it to fit within an upper corner of the screen/wall. It was still blinking green. Text appeared in the lower part of the screen.

Maya gasped, then translated.

Warning You have selected this large rogue planetoid and everything on its surface as a transport unit. It has been calculated this object's course will bring it within range for the near Bridge End to take it into the Bridge. However, this is not a typical transport. It will fit, but with slight difficulty. Results not certain. Absolute safety of the full transport object and its inhabitants not guaranteed. The usual protection will be extended, and reinforced over artificial surfaces. This is the only transport allowed in this session. This object crossing the Bridge will destroy the Bridge behind it. Do you agree to these terms? Agree Reject

"Absolute safety not guaranteed," Tony said.

John sighed. "When has our safety ever been guaranteed?"

"For a few minutes before we selected the Moon."

"Maya, I know we discussed this before, but in case you remember any final data or legends now, does the other Bridge End come out within an inhabitable system?"

"The Bridge End opens to empty space, on the far side of the Alk^inharda and varies somewhat each time, apparently randomly. No one can predict the exact spot, though there is a volume comprising its range."

"Right," Tony started, "Like I said back then, that no one can just set up a ship or gun to blast everything coming out of the Bridge."

"These Bridge Builders thought through the design," Karedepoulos commented.

Tony laughed. "You got that right, Alex. If only the poetry authors writing about this had done the same."

"This planet is uninhabitable. No Operation Exodus. We could go lifeboat Eagles through the Bridge, but we could be months or more from anything at all. Much larger risk. We have to send the Moon."

There were slow nods all around.

"Alpha will have to collect all the satellites if we want to keep them," Tony added.

John nodded at that, and Tony called Alibe on Flight 4 to make sure that was conveyed at the earliest opportunity.

"What about the part about us effectively destroying the Bridge?" the architect asked, in an even tone.

There was silence for several moments, and John put his hand up to his chin. "We have been offered the option of going through. I understand the implications. We're not doing this to hurt others."

"We're hopefully not creating more than an inconvenience," Alexander said.

"Except...." Tony started. "What about cases like Rodolono? Her ship was trying to flee some sort of pursuers, and she thought less of her ship's chances after failing to find the key to get through the Bridge."

"That's exactly it, though, they could not get through the Bridge in the end. Who knows who goes through the Bridge. Good, evil, neutral people. We're not in a position to evaluate the benefits of leaving the Bridge versus destroying it."

"True," Tony said. "We've had to act unilaterally before, without being certain we know all the secondary consequences."

"We're trying to survive without hurting anyone else in the process, but where we can't know, but feel we have to act, we have to make a choice."

"For whatever it is worth, I say we go," Alexander stated.

Tony agreed as well.

Maya, who had been watching the brief philosophical discussion with interest, agreed, not hastily, but thoughtfully.

Of course, final decision either way was the Commander's, but it was no surprise that given the facts at hand, he nodded as well, then said, "Maya, agree to the terms."

She did so.

The text vanished. The Moon stayed, returned to full size, rotated, zoomed way in, to a Nuclear Waste Storage Area, then again to a graphical representation of it and its surrounding barrier columns, which then started blinking blue. Text appeared at the bottom.

Maya translated: "Easily triggered laser field. Contract requires temporarily disabling this system."

John looked at Alexander. "The laser barrier. These must be the additional details. Get these noted down too, with the other terms. As soon as we're done, relay all of them to Flight 4 with the other previously-sent information, so they can relay to Alpha later."

The screen waited for Maya to press either an Accept or a Reject 'button' -- and she waited for word to do so. The view then zoomed out rapidly, rotated the moon more slowly, zoomed back in more slowly, and then brought up another detailed representation. It was an amazingly detailed scanning, interpretation, and display system, all the more so for being presented as interference patterns in force fields. Whatever the actual technology doing all the various tasks, it was well hidden.

There were a few -- but only a few -- more items. Apparently Alpha had little that wasn't covered in the general rules on the first page.

Finally, the Moon shrunk to the upper left corner of the screen. An empty rectangle appeared at the bottom of the screen, not high but very wide. At the top, to the right of the Moon image, what appeared to be strings of changing numbers appeared, with static text above. Maya translated to Alphan terms: "Time to fulfill prior contract requirements: 18 hours, 10 minutes, 6 seconds." The middle third had more text: " 'Any violations after that point will result in the Bridge not opening. Any violations once inside the bridge can result in damage or destruction of transport, or other unpredictable results. Final term of contract is...' there is a shorter word here that I would have to translate as bridge'passage'payment."

"We have to pay a bloody bridge toll?" Tony groaned.

Koenig, though looking irritated, asked, "Is that the rest of it?"

She started at the beginning of the sentence she had paused in. " 'Final term of contract is Bridge'toll, to be paid by the end of the countdown. Failure to pay in full will result in non-passage.' That is all, other than that box at the bottom, perhaps a... progress bar."

"No hint what the payment is supposed to be?"

"No, Commander."

"Is there a way to ask this computer questions?"

"It does not offer one. The language has something similar to a question mark, however, so I will try that." She waved her finger about in the air, paused, then tried again. Then she tried a whole set of finger movements. Finally, she turned her face to the rest and shook her head. "It ignores the question mark, the word for question, and the question: 'May I ask a question?' "

"Dammit," Tony said, not in a ranting tone but still clearly irritated. "We get past the poetic riddles, and this system's tests, and have one more puzzle?" Then his tone changed. "Wait, I was wondering before if there were totally separate Bridges of Power and Control--"

Alexander nodded. "And the Bridge of Control is above us -- I mean above the conic opening. Then the Bridge of Power probably is the big one over the river, as we thought from almost the beginning."

"Maya, what does the word 'power' mean in Psychon?" John asked.

Maya laughed. "Actually, solely for the Shaped poem, Psychon has a word from the Telninar language embedded in it to preserve the shape of the poem. As in Alphan English, the word 'power' is ambiguous in Telninar -- I mean the word'sound is multi-meaning with some symbolic overlap -- in Telninar also: zeelyi. Psychon has essentially no homonyms, and we apparently got the poems, or at least that one, from the Telninar people ages ago, for we had to keep their word to preserve the poem shape and the word's ambiguous meaning."

"What English meanings does zeelyi have in Telninar?"

Though Psychons avoided heavily reusing a word, and the Khorask-provided English information had little information on English homonyms, Maya was familiar with how heavily overloaded zeelyi was, and provided a list of concepts, some not that dissimilar, some very much so. "Moving mass energy. Quantity and ability of personal connections. Or such connections in leadership systems. Work ability of energy. Simple energy. Volume of music. Noise density of music. Noise when used for integrity disruption. Amount of plant growth. Total grain stores. The ability to guess well. Tearing force. Number and/or effectiveness of weapons. Some more specific military terms I'm not sure how to translate."

"Did the Telninar people write the Shaped poem?" Tony asked.

"I do not know. These poems, along with the surrounding legends, are widely transmitted. Telninar just happened to be located closest to Psychon, but further from the Alk^inharda."

"Okay," John said, "I'm most interested in the energy and noise ideas."

"But in what way?" Tony asked.

"I don't know. Maybe some device or something is now accessible on the river bridge. We have some time. Let's get back there and check it out, to see if something has changed."

F-396 DAB 1430-1600: Familiar Place

By the time they reached the chamber, got out of the hole, returned to the Eagle, landed it back in the small park near the bridge, where the two moonbuggies were still parked, more than half an hour had gone by.

The Commander had ordered Eagle 4, Fraser's team, to find a spot on the other side of the river bridge. They had only one moonbuggy, so Koenig ordered them to split into two sub-teams, as Bill saw fit, one to walk to the beginning of the bridge and look at anything near it or on its earliest portions, and the one to drive the moonbuggy further in. They were only familiar with the details of the bridge passed on from Flight 4 earlier in the mission, not from their own eyes, but they could perhaps spot something obvious.

While in flight, Flight 4 was apprised of these steps, and Koenig received status that Flight 3 was working on its final hauling hook-up process. After landing and the moonbuggy was on the streets heading towards the road to the bridge, Flight 4 piped in another communication.

"Alpha to Eagle 1." It was Helena's voice.

John smiled. "Eagle 1, Koenig here. How is Alpha?"

"We are fine. Was mostly routine work. We hear you've made a lot of progress, that we have several large chunks of metal arcing towards the Moon, and that we have to batten down the hatches for other reasons too."

"Yes, though we have one last puzzle to figure out. By the way, in case I didn't relay my orders clearly, stick to the retrieval items first, and shutting down some of those auxiliary things listed. Shutting down the artificial gravity should wait until our return."

"Understood. That is the impression I had."

They talked a few other details, Commander to the one temporarily in command of the base, to assure they were in alignment on some points.

"Okay, the four of us are almost to the bridge. Continue coordinating with Alibe. Find out when the estimates on the final round of Hauler burns will be. Have Sandra and Main Computer run them, as previously planned for later hauls. Koenig out."

They reached the bridge. The anchorage building they had looked at first on their arrival looked unchanged, but they approached anyway. It was still covered by the force field, which took that moment to shed.

"Funny thing is, I don't recall the one underground doing that," Alexander mentioned.

"It was humming," Maya, said. She was again wearing sunglasses, against the blue light of the expansive blue nebula and stars.

When she didn't add anymore, Tony said, "So?"

"Patterned force fields with thinner layers and/or power sources of a different nature shed more often but quietly. It can vary widely. The one in there was humming very softly the whole time, shedding many microscopic layers per second."

"Well, come to think of it, the room did hum a little," Tony said.

Cackles sounded again. The coldbirds had noticed them again.

Tony found an extendible pole, with an insulated handle, in the moonbuggy, and reached it up to touch the antennae they had noticed there before. Force field again.

So they moved onto the bridge itself, this time followed by coldbirds, which had usually stayed outside of the bridge.

Overall, and at the specific points of interest they had looked at before, nothing had changed. It too was still shielded. The strange bulges on supports and cables remained as they were. The center marker was just a marker, the buildings on the central rock outcropping were just as inaccessible.

They spent another fruitless hour on the bridge, and Fraser and Andreichi eventually met them in the center. Gutierez and Carson, at the other end of the bridge, on foot, had nothing to report.

Bill adopted a thicker British accent, not unlike some others on the base, and said, "I think yonder royal bridge not be accepting pounds sterling."

The humans all laughed, but the Psychon, not understanding the unfamiliar meanings of familiar words, and not wanting them to dismiss an idea too quickly, said, "Pounds of sterling what?"

"Money, Maya," Tony said. "A type of money."

He looked about ready to explain further, but Maya was already saying, "No, I agree. We're thinking energy."

"There isn't anything in any of the other poems or legends?" Bill asked.

"No. Payment or cost was never mentioned. I still think I might be forgetting one poem, but if it mentioned payment, our current discussion would have triggered the memory."

"What are all these writings on the bridge?" Lena asked.

"Dedications, cable numbers, historical statements, personal names," Maya answered matter-of-factly.

"Talk about achieving a sort of immortality," Alexander commented suddenly.

"What?" Maya asked.

"The builders' names, remembered for millennia."

"Oh... yes," she commented.

"If we have to deliver electrical power to the 'bridge of power' to make the payment, then how?" the Commander asked.

There was silence, and everyone started looking all around.

Alexander still found the bridge a thing of remarkable beauty, but it had remained an enduring mystery. It was so clearly central to the city, its history, and the alien poems, and tied in with other bridge references here: Bridge World, the transliteration of the word Kaska'lon; Bridge Builders, alternate names for the absent alien people also called Star Movers, Orca'ayi or Orcayi; the Bridge of Control, and of course, the Alkinarda Bridge itself.

Here this almost human-looking bridge sat, yet revealing no secrets as to its purpose, if any, in maintaining the Bridge across the Alkinarda itself.

He looked around it again. He had accumulated plenty of photographs already, but he loved just looking at it, admiring its form, its incredible girderwork and cables. Though perhaps one of the least advanced things in the city, it really was a masterpiece of engineering; but....

Suddenly, he frowned about an unusual aspect of its design he had noticed and mentioned before. It nagged at him again, especially now when they were again grasping at straws and not finding even them. "You know, though, there is something odd about this bridge."

"Besides standing a foot above its deck?" Bill quipped.

"Look at all these beams and trusses, horizontal on top of the bridge spans, and even across the gap between the two spans, above us."

After Alex did not continue, the Commander asked, "What about them?"

"I don't know. I doubt they are load bearing."

"Stabilizers?" the Commander asked.

"I do not see how. They add more weight than stabilization benefit. They must be decorative, though they actually detract from the beauty, in my opinion."

Then they heard Maya's in-drawn breath and looked at her. She was looking about both bridge spans and the additional trusses above them, with an unmistakable look of wonderment on her face.

"Maya?" Tony asked.

"Altrenorada! Maybe it's an altrenorada."

When she didn't explain, but just kept looking around, Alexander impatiently prompted her, saying, "What?"

She looked at him momentarily, then down the length of each bridge span, and above again, as if to re-confirm her suspicion, whatever it was. "I think it is a giant photon collector array."

"Like solar panels?" Alex asked.

"Not just for light, but any electromagnetic radiation, most likely. I am sorry I did not see it before; I thought it was part of the bridge, but it is the other way around."

Alexander followed up. "The structure is kind of sparse for an array just on top, unless the whole bridge...."

"Exactly. It is the whole bridge, and maybe the little panels pop open to release more cross'members."

"Are you sure, Maya?" the commander asked.

"96%"

"Okay, let's assume so for now," the Commander said. Is that how we're supposed to pay it energy? We obviously have no way of making a decent connection from the Eagle with the force field."

"What?" Alexander asked. The coldbirds were back, in increasing numbers, making more noise.

"Can we connect to anything here, with the force field covering every structure?"

"Jump start?" Tony said.

"Jump start?" Maya asked, in a different tone.

"Run power cables directly from the Eagle to the shield?"

"I don't see how," Alex said.

Maya shook her head. "A patterned energy barrier is not like an unpatterned shield. It cannot be accessed in such a manner. Even accessing an unpatterned force field takes work."

"On second thought," the First Officer said, "I'm not sure I'd want to hook up Eagle systems directly to some alien shield, patterned or not."

"No," the Commander agreed.

"Miniature nuclear generator, maybe, but not with the force-- ack!" A coldbird had dive-bombed Tony, followed by another. "Dammit, what is with these birds? They're crackers!" Tony said, his many years in Britain showing through.

"I wouldn't want to eat them," Maya commented dryly.

After a surprised pause, Tony laughed, John chuckled, and even Alex, uncomfortable for so long around Maya, did as well.

It wasn't hard to guess Maya was joking, presumably not knowing Verdeschi meant 'they're crazy,' yet clearly having to know from context that he was not referring to food either, and this time, instead of asking for clarification, just cracking a joke, lightly at her expense, joking about her ignorance of many Alphan idioms and slang. In the end, she was only helping herself, of course, demonstrating she had a sense of humor, and wasn't above a little self-deprecation for it.

Much to everyone's surprise, Alex joined in, "Yeah, I wouldn't want to eat them either, because they're nuts!"

"Okay, buffet's over," the Commander said sardonically but with a light smile. The levity was infectious.

Another coldbird dive-bombed Maya, and she put up her arms reflexively, more reactive, as if she could sense them when they got really close to her.

Tony pulled out his stun gun, waving it in the general direction of the coldbirds, saying, "I wish I could fire warning shots across their bow."

"Wait a second," John said. "Try it!"

"What? The dampening field--"

"Fire a warning shot at them."

"Uh, okay."

Tony took aim, Maya looking intently at him like she was afraid he'd shoot directly at the annoying birds. Almost everyone jumped when the laser fired, missing all of the birds but prompting them to scatter somewhat. The ones which had approached closer than the main mob flew towards the now semi-dispersed mob as well.

Tony's eyes narrowed, and he aimed at one of the bridge's nearby supports, then looked at John, who nodded. Tony fired again and the shot went through most or all of the shield to apparently hit the bridge. There was a snapping sound that startled all of them, as the strange bulges on bridge cables and supports snapped open and new, narrow cross-members flew out, as if to complete a circuit. The glow dispersed, and some seconds later, the cross-members slowly withdrew.

"The force field must not be interfering with the laser energy aspect of the dampening field anymore, after we found the key," Tony concluded.

"Probably only allowing it on this bridge," Maya speculated.

"This whole bridge is a massive energy collector," Alexander said in awe. "Retrofitted apparently. Or maybe purpose-built after the Alkinarda formed, despite all the other statements."

John looked at the bridge, in new light. What had seemingly been the largest single waste of time in the whole mission had laid the groundwork for this discovery, eliminating possibility after possibility until they only had to look around for another hour-plus to finally find the true action on this bridge. "We found and turned the key at the Bridge of Control, and now just have to pay at the Bridge of Power. How much, though?"

"I doubt a photon collector array of this size would be impressed by such a paltry payment," Tony stated.

"No," both Maya and Alex commented, Maya then adding, "From what just happened, it would take at least a Combat Eagle's full fire power to even touch a reasonable fraction of its capacity."

"Any estimates how much?"

"No, not really."

"Guesses?"

She paused, then said, "Is that a different question?"

"Very low-confidence estimates."

"Oh, Psychon separates those meanings with integrated adjectives," she mumbled absentmindedly, stalling as she looked around the structure. "It is still hard to say. Anything from one Eagle to a whole fleet worth, perhaps more. Sorry, this is an alien device that I only have some theoretical knowledge of, and this one is arranged in a most unusual configuration."

"Don't be sorry, that's more helpful than no guess." As if to prove the point, he started launching orders. "Fraser, get your team off the bridge and your Eagle to a safe but good observation point, not the same park we've been at, whose view is partially obstructed. Watch and film the results when the time comes. My team, on the moonbuggies, now. Alexander, do you know how to drive?"

"No."

"Maya, you're with me. Drive it back to Eagle 1."

Tony and Alex went in the other, and they all began heading the opposite direction from Bill and Lena. As Maya drove, John continued talking on the commlock.

"Flight 1 to Flight 4."

"Flight 4 here, go ahead Flight 1," Alibe returned.

"Have your pilot fly your Transporter Eagle down to retrieve your moonbuggy, at your original touchdown spot. Our ETA, ten minutes."

"Understood."

"Contact Alpha, have them launch the rest of Flight 6 and send the whole wing here. In fact, send all but one laser-equipped Eagle this way, full speed. Also, have them be ready to use Alpha's Laser Cannon. I know they're out of range now, but have them ready to target the bridge in the center of Glasscit."

"The river bridge, sir?"

"Confirmed. Where is your Flight's Combat Eagle in orbit?"

"Not optimal. More than ten minutes."

"Perfect. Send them now. Same target, but stay cold until ordered. They will be targeting the upper half, road level and above, not the piers. Repeat, not the base. We're not trying to destroy it, and probably can't anyway, but to energize it."

"Confirmed to target the upper half of the bridge on your order."

"One more thing. Have the original Flight 2 reassemble and return to survey duties. Two Eagles at two of the other dead cities, and Sanderson's team in general Exploration. Let's pick up whatever more we can before we leave. All Eagles should try to collect some water, as well."

"Water collection and more Flight 2 exploration confirmed."

"Okay. Koenig out."

"Are we going back to the Bridge of Control?" Maya asked.

"It will be hours before Flight 6 arrives. We'll observe the first try, return to the control chamber, and see how much of a dent we've made."

"Dent? Oh, I understand."

"Do you know the technical specifications of the Laser Cannon?"

"Yes, Tony arranged a session with Petrov."

"Given its strength and collimation, how close does the Moon need to be to have most of the laser energy falling on the bridge instead of being wasted elsewhere in the city?"

"Closer. I estimate approximately Lunar Time 22:00 at the earliest."

"What about safety of us on the surface when that cannon is used?"

"The slightest variation in targeting or vibration in the cannon can mean many hundreds of meters at this distance. Variation by more than that could be kilometers. No one on the surface should be in sight of the Bridge of Power. At the Bridge of Control, we should be underground. The Eagle, ten meters ahead of where you parked it before, will have a building between it and the Moon for nearly an hour at that time, and the city's force field protecting the building will protect the Eagle."

"If Fraser's team is there too, on standby again?"

"The Bridge of Control is exposed. No protective building at that angle during those times. They should remain in Eagle 4, right next to Eagle 1, or come underground with us."

"No, they are our backup. They'll remain in the Eagle, then."

It was a quick conversation, and only when it was done did he realize they had just done in a couple minutes what would have taken a few times more than that to have someone run through Main Computer to check, regarding effectiveness and surface safety.

By the time he finished that thought, he noticed the omni-directional relay they had dropped partway onto the bridge, and stopped to pick it up. Soon, they were arriving back in the park, and the Combat Eagle was approaching the city, over the cold desert.

"Commander?"

"Yes, Maya?"

"I would have the Combat Eagle approach over the river and fire from there as well."

"That would be the clearest approach and shot, I think."

"It is also where the shield is absent, and the damping field may be suppressed to allow shots from there or from orbit or above, rather than low over one half or the other of the... skyscrapers."

"Okay, contact them to make sure."

She did so.

On Alpha, Dr. Russell sat back in the command chair. Part of her found it strange, part of her just accepted it, and part of her liked it. Not that she wanted the post permanently, for any reason, but she was used to leadership, and found she didn't mind temporary command. Of course, it had been fairly routine on Alpha until the last two hours, but still....

Little more than a year ago, she would have called it ridiculous to be in charge of the whole of Moonbase Alpha, but here she was. She did not linger on the thought, instead turning to Big Screen for the moment to watch as the enlarged Flight 6, assembled in orbit, now kicked up to full thrust, launching themselves towards Kaskalon.

Sandra received confirmation and relayed it to Helena.

After another minute of routine noise, Helena turned to Sandra and asked, "Do we have the Flight 3 haul course data?"

"It has just been loaded into Main Computer. The arcs on the first set of Hauls were all longer, and the second set somewhat shorter, to assure best approach and angles onto the Moon. They will arrive in a one-hour window tomorrow, in mixed order for the five objects. Presumably those from the upcoming third set will end up mixed in."

"Five. From two full sets of hauls?"

"One object turned out to be unmovable. They speculate it was a node to generate the Alk^inarda Bridge."

"You pronounced that almost like Maya does."

"I speak a few languages, and there is a sibilant sound combination in one of them that is not unlike it, and I have tried to adjust it more to the sound she uses. How she gets that half-pronounced 'h' sound in shortly afterwards, I am not sure I will master."

"A Bridge-generation node, embedded in a piece of debris. Mysteries within mysteries."

Ten minutes before, it had been a strange order which came in to the Combat Eagle stationed in orbit. The pilot and co-pilot looked at each other, before the pilot returned the call, not sure they had gotten the message correctly.

"You want us to fly down to Glasscit and shoot at the large bridge at the center of it?"

"Confirmed, shoot directly at upper portions of bridge, the girder work -- not at the base."

"Until it is destroyed?"

"We do not believe it can be destroyed. There is another reason. Do not shoot until ordered."

The two pilots looked at each other. It was a puzzling order, but hardly the first they had gotten in deep space. Shoot at a bridge that could not be destroyed? What was the point?

As they headed down from orbit, they got another communication, from Maya of all people, indicating they should approach the bridge from the river. Given the profile of the city and their course, they had been planning an approach where the buildings were plenty low, but her stated reasons seemed sound, so they confirmed.

Some minutes later, the Eagle was approaching the city, from low, over the river, just reaching the city's sharply defined outskirts. Low buildings dominated, but many of them were already tens of stories tall.

"Sort of vaguely reminds me of New York."

"Nah, more like London."

"You kidding? This is more gridded than London!"

"You've flown over London?"

"Sure, but on someone else's 7A7."

They both laughed, then quieted, mutually, as the banter made them remember what they had lost: Earth. They, like the rest, did not talk about it much, but this city, however alien, was starting to remind them a little. The pilot kept the Eagle on a steady descent and approach course. It was an alien city, yet at this height, it could almost pass as a huge human city, in some ways.

Yet even at this distance from the alien "downtown" and the bridge that seemed to be garnering so much attention -- an alternate name for the whole planet was Bridgeworld, apparently based on something the pretty Psychon woman had said -- the city was already sporting some clusters of lower skyscrapers in parts of the 'suburbs.' These buildings were again almost human-like yet very different at the same time.

The pilot noticed the bridge then, off in the distance but almost dead ahead as they followed the gently-curving river.

"Okay, 21 out, 1.1 up," the co-pilot informed him. "20 out, 0.9 up."

"Starting to ease descent."

Minutes, they were within two kilometers, and they slowing down as they approached a kilometer, but not quite hovering. They could fire while still moving, and like all pilots, fixed-wing, rotating wing, or semi-anti-gravity, movement imparted a slight margin of safety.

"Lining up, lasers powered, preparing to fire. Flight 1, this is Flight 4 Combat Eagle, awaiting order to fire on the upper reaches of the bridge."

"Confirmed. Fire at will. 75% duration. Save yourself some, just in case."

"Yes, sir, 75% of energy."

Offline, the one commented to another, "Just in case we still run across an alien spaceship?"

"Maybe, but we do have an expanded Flight 6 on its way."

From the shore, Koenig broke the connection, and he and his team watched as the Combat Eagle came in low and slow, some distance away in front of them, halfway across the wide river.

Sure enough, the laser was able to fire, and it struck the bridge almost dead center on its over-rock portion. A glow spread out from there and across part of the bridge, and its structure seemed to grow "denser." John brought up his binoculars, and could see various cross members had snapped between existing structures, creating more "circuits" perhaps, as when Tony had shot his laser at the superstructure. This was clearly involving many more such cross members.

It continued firing for awhile, then stopped.

The Combat Eagle called in to verify it had used 76% of the energy available to it.

It would return to orbit to refuel, but the cycle to re-charge the laser batteries was time-consuming, so Flight 6 would probably still be necessary.

"Let's find out what the results were."

They loaded their moonbuggy on the Eagle. They boarded the Eagle, each pausing on the stairway to look over the Bridge of Power and the city around it and them. Given their destination in the outskirts, and the time it might take to finish the mission, it could be their last look, in full light, of the central area of the beautiful, and very ancient, alien city.

Five minutes later, repositioning checklists complete, they launched, just as Flight 4's Transporter Eagle arrived to pick up their moonbuggy. Koenig ordered Fraser's team to stay put at their new location, to eventually watch Flight 6's run. They could still serve as a reasonably-close backup to Eagle 1, though they would have to be evacuated close to the Bridge of Control if or when Alpha's laser cannon was used.

F-396 DAB 1630-2300: Dents

7.12%

They had put a dent, or more literally, some blue shading, in the previously empty 'toll' box, and the number, translated by Maya, had climbed from zero.

John and Maya ran some Flight 6 and refueling scenarios, but it was clear Alpha's laser cannon would be needed.

John sent Tony and Alexander back to the surface to retrieve some food. It was discovered that this was Maya's first try of the food bar packed in with the climbing equipment, and she had found it an inedible combination. "Too much like a rich dessert. Not the same, but still...." She had eaten Psychon food bars for years, but the Alphan ones were too different. Neither she nor her Alphan survival training teacher had not thought of checking that.

She was starting to look fatigued, but John had started wondering if she could somehow hack into this system and access the force field and perhaps make the biosphere accessible. He thought it highly unlikely, and she quickly but politely dismissed the idea, stating the technology was inaccessible in limited time. He ran some other curiosities about the planet past her. By the time he thought that she could take a nap, the others were back with other cold food, and that and more conversation seemed to give her a boost again.

Since Verdeschi and Karedepoulos had left to get regular cold food for all, given the need for one, they all sat down on the force field in the cube room, and ate and talked as they waited for the arrival of Flight 6 and perhaps another run by Flight 4's Combat Eagle.

"What I don't get," Tony said after a bite, "Is why make us bother with an energy payment? I mean the energy expenses of maintaining an enormous force field at both magnetic poles of the planet must make our eventual payment seem like a millisecond's of energy output by whatever is generating this field, not to mention the additional dampening field."

"Tony has a good question," Maya stated.

Alex looked at each of them, then said, "Maybe this is all well balanced. Constant energy output to feed the fields, and these computer systems. Maybe our payment is exactly what it takes to open up the Alkinarda Bridge itself."

"Highly plausible," Maya stated.

"How much do you think there is in the way of computing power here?" John asked.

"Enough to control the power generators," Alex started.

"The shield and its interference patterns," Tony added.

"The scanners or sensors that have obviously been watching us from the moment we arrived," Maya said.

"This Bridge computer interface here," John said himself.

"These are all probably just caretaker systems," Maya speculated. "The Orca'ayi likely took the rest with them, wherever they went."

"Think anything's left in the buildings?" Alex asked Maya.

"With sufficiently advanced technology, computer activity is detectable. Even types of computing can be discerned, and sometimes interfered with. I doubt they left much more. Or it is inactive. No way to determine now."

"We've seen our share of selective or blanketing interference," Tony said. "We may just have to have her review some more of the details of those encounters and get her take on them."

"Exactly." That the two officers were quietly implying perhaps all the details, usually not accessible outside the officers except certain details in certain cases, to certain people -- went unnoticed by both non-officers.

She smiled a little, shyly, at the implied compliment in what she heard, and then they all turned their attention back to food for a bit. After some silence, Alexander spoke next.

"Well, what I don't understand is this," he said, waving his hand at the alien computer interface around them, particularly at the image on the screen. "Not the energy part any more, because I think we may be right, but why the system allowed us to push the Moon through. Why let us destroy the Bridge? The Bridge has been here for tens or hundreds of thousands of years, and from the look of high stability of this 'locked city' could be for millions more. It could have refused this."

To that, no one had any response.

Finally, Maya asked, "And what will happen to this ancient city of Eemochawren, once the Bridge is gone?"

"If Alexander is right about how the Bridge is a fairly separate energy system, maybe nothing. The city could stand for eons more, perhaps, as permanent museums to the vanished people. They may have left, but their world remains with two places representing the way the world once was before their war, if there was such a time -- or at least before they left."

They talked for awhile, accepted a few minor updates. Commtraffic had slowed somewhat. Flight 2's salvage finds were in line with what they had been finding earlier in the mission.

The meal eventually wound down, while the discussion continued, until after some time, Flight 4 reported Flight 6 was arriving at Kaskalon in minutes.

"Have them head to Glasscit immediately, but one at a time. Take the same general river approach Flight 4's Combat Eagle did. Each should expend 100% of their charge. Flight 4's Combat Eagle, when its laser batteries are fully or sufficiently charged, should as well."

"John?" Tony interrupted. "I would keep one defence-ready Eagle in this fleet here."

"That will be more coming from Alpha's laser cannon. That's more dicey. But... I agree. Alibe, belay last order. Keep your flight's Combat Eagle up there. The rest stands."

"Should each Flight 6 Eagle fire at will?"

"Fire at will. If we want them to stop, we will call that in."

"Okay, first Eagle's ETA at firing position, nine minutes."

Half an hour later, it was done. It was a far larger dent.

44.19%

It would take too long to recharge Flight 6's laser batteries as well. That was as far as that flight's lasers were going to be able to take it. Alpha's laser cannon would be needed, as expected.

"Eagle 1 to Eagle 4."

"Eagle 4, Fraser here, Commander."

"Do you have a transmitting vidcam that you can set up that is expendable?"

"Well, I wouldn't call any of them totally expendable, but I do have one we can spare if it comes to that."

"Set it up to film the whole Bridge of Power. Relay the signal to Flight 4. Then abandon your location and return to where we parked near the Bridge of Control. Park precisely next to our Eagle, as you need to be in the shadow of a skyscraper when Alpha fires the big gun. Stay in your Eagle. You will be our backup, but cannot be outside during that firing."

"Understood. Set up vidcam to film Power Bridge, fly to Eagle 1's position and park next to it, and remain inside."

After a few minutes, Flight 4 reported Flight 3 was starting its final Hauls, using Main Computer and coordinated by Sandra.

Koenig thought for a few minutes, then said, "Alibe, I know they had only a few more hours spent on the planet, but pull Flight 2. I only want Eagles 1 and 4 on the planet when we start firing. Will the hauls be completed by then?"

"Current schedule states yes."

"If they do, send them back towards Alpha. We do not have the time to start another hauling sequence. Make sure they take some wider paths to avoid any errant cannon shot. If they don't complete before cannon firing, check with me. Send Flights 2 and 6 on the way back immediately. As soon as Flights 2, 3, and 6 are all gone, Flight 4 should leave as well, including your Eagle. Assist in any satellite or lunar survey team retrieval Dr. Russell may have remaining on your arrival back. Glasscit will be facing the Moon the rest of our time here, so we no longer need the communication relaying, except for a transmitting vidcam Eagle 4 will set up. Flight 1's two current Eagles will remain."

"Understood, sir."

"Good job, Alibe."

"Thank you, sir."

For awhile, the Eagle 1 team just sat and said little. It had been a wearying two days on the planet, and they were all nearing the end of their energies. Still, there was room for one more idea....

"John," Tony said.

John looked up at Tony, who had a funny smile on his face.

"Remember what I said about codenaming a Hauler Eagle as The Boxer?"

"What? Right, I do."

"Well, when you said we don't have time to start another full Haul cycle here and ordered Alibe to have Flight 3 return to Alpha, I thought maybe we could use them to do a little boxing, after all."

John looked puzzled. "I don't follow... oh, wait. Wait a minute! You may just have something after all. That could just work. That really could."

Alexander joined in. "Now I get it. What we couldn't do from here due to precision, we just need.... That's perfect. We can get the rest." Enthusiastically, the Chief Architect turned to the Science Advisor, and said, "You've done some of the Hauler runs here, what about it?"

"What about what? I don't understand any of what you're trying to say. What is a Boxer?"

That discussion took most of the time remaining before the Moon and laser cannon were within range to shoot effectively at the Bridge of Power, interrupted only by Flight 4's probable final report to Flight 1. Flights 2 and 6 had left earlier, Flight 3 had completed its Hauls, but with one hitch. One piece of station debris had been more wobbly, and had chosen to express one final variation just before release, which then could not be compensated for. It was to fly not far over Alpha, at a height of about 5 kilometers and offset downrange about 2, and impact about 25 kilometers away, not hitting anything.

"Do we try to hook up to it?" Alan asked directly after Alibe conferenced him in. "The final wobble at the moment of release has left it rotating some, and that could be difficult to deal with. Otherwise, we'd have to blow it up."

Koenig thought for a moment. "Negative on any intervention, for now. Just trail it. Have Sandra monitor its course. The short arc has you out of the laser cannon corridor I assume."

"Yes."

"If it remains close to its current window, leave it as it is."

"The rest of Flight 3 has already left," Alibe then said. "Flight 4 is following shortly. That will leave you and Eagle 4 on planet."

"Okay, safe return."

Dr. Russell sat back in the command seat and gave the order.

"Fire Laser Cannon 1 at target."

After Petrov had confirmed Alpha was close enough to Kaskalon, still little more than a small dot with an unzoomed view, to get 90% of the laser's energy on the bridge in the middle of the intact city, she had in turn contacted John, who had given the immediate go-ahead.

Efficiency would be somewhat questionable, and some energy might be wasted, but if something didn't work, they might need time to deal with it, either here or on the planet.

All but two Eagles were clear of the planet and taking slightly-arcing return paths, and would all be well clear if the laser erred slightly.

Still, whether they were sheltered in a force-fielded bunker or behind a force-fielded skyscraper, Helena still felt a little discomfort firing Alpha's most powerful laser weapon from such a huge distance against the city. Yet it was like using a scalpel to reach a surgical site or excise a cancer. Tools could be dangerous but still needed to be used -- in the right way. She certainly hoped John was right.

The laser was firing. The vidcam Bill had set up, whose signal was relayed to Flight 4, on to Alpha, and up onto the Big Screen and down to Weapons section was showing a startling sight. Nightfall had clearly arrived at Glasscit, and the beam showed clearly, wider than usual, perhaps from distance, more likely from atmospheric scattering. It came down from a 30-degree angle over the horizon. Initially, it was hitting the river, making it start to steam. It seemed to be more than two kilometers from the bridge, on the far side of it from the camera's perspective. It then moved -- half a kilometer into the city. Nothing happened. Buildings took the hit, but the force field seemed to take it just fine.

It was clear Petrov was trying to adjust, for it moved again, back to the water, but now closer to the bridge. Finally, impact. The beam continued to move about slightly. The tiniest vibration at the laser cannon could be tens of meters at the bridge. But most or all of it was hitting, most of the time -- and the Bridge of Power started responding.

At first, the bridge just glowed in the light of the laser. Next, oddly, the bridge structure seemed to grow denser, for some reason Helena could not guess at. Then the bridge started glowing in general. Every beam, truss, and suspension cable lit up. The anchorages glowed next, then the piers.

"48%" Maya called over the commline. The numbers climbed steadily. "52%... 56%.... 60%.... 64%...." It was taking minutes, but it was working. "100%" Maya eventually stated. "System states: 'Full payment made.' "

"Shut it down, Helena."

"Weapons section, cease fire."

F-396 DAB 2320-2400: Final Farewell

Once they had climbed back onto the tiny Bridge of Control, and from there onto solid "ground," they looked around. Redsun had set now too, and with the Alk^inharda Complex still below the horizon, it was night in the ancient "Starmover" city. There were no artificial lights except the Eagles' -- both parked almost two-hundred meters away -- and their flashlights. It was silent; even the generally faint ground-level wind was absent too. The coldbirds were presumably roosting for the night, and shield shedding would not occur for awhile.

They were all fatigued, and Maya especially so. Tony gave Maya a little support initially, until she started finding a small reserve. She had been going nonstop almost the whole time, interpreting all the written material, flying about as an eagle or falcon, contending with coldbirds, shivering cold at one point, working the alien controls, climbing up and down ropes, being put to a harrowing test... with scarcely more than a half hour of sleep in almost two days.

Tony and Maya were eventually trailing behind, but there was no huge hurry to leave, for Eagle 1 anyway. Fraser, Andreichi, Carson, and Gutierez boarded Eagle 4, and launched promptly, as instructed, to retrieve the vidcam, which was still transmitting from along the river, near the Bridge of Power. Koenig and Karedepoulos were only somewhat further ahead of Tony and Maya.

Alexander boarded the Eagle first. John started to board, but stopped after noticing Tony and Maya were standing some distance behind, looking at the night sky.

Maya, suddenly remembering something and looking up, had found a clear view of most of the sky. They had landed their Eagles in an empty area -- a park as Tony had called it earlier, and there were only shorter buildings at these city outskirts, except for the one taller skyscraper which had served as protection against a possible hit from Alpha's laser cannon. The city itself did not light up at all. The sky was as clear as a patterned force field, and she stopped, her fatigue vanishing for the moment as she calculated.

Tony stopped with her, and then she abruptly turned and looked up towards an exact direction, and directly at a somewhat bright star. Compared to the Shepherds, it was not all that bright at all, but.... "Psyoliyask?" he quietly asked, already knowing the answer.

She looked at him with a mix of mild surprise and a smile on her face, visible even in the minimal light, clearly happy he had remembered her home star's name. He was happy to know he remembered the full name too, in both languages: Psychon'da Liyasla Sasskas -- Psychon's Lifegiving Warmth.

She turned back to the star, and said nothing for nearly a minute.

He did not prompt her. As far as he was concerned, she could stand out here for the remaining four hours to the original deadline.

Then she looked further up and well to the left of it, drawing Tony's attention to another, brighter "star" she pointed out, visible just to the side of the nearby skyscraper. "The Moon," she quietly said. It was still just little more than a point, but not twinkling like Psyoliyask or the other stars. The Moon was not approaching the planet so closely this time, but would eventually swell to a small disk as viewed from the planet, but the Alphans would be long gone from Kaskalon.

Tony had no idea what she was thinking, but for once, he did not try prompting or pushing her.

Just then, John quietly came up on Maya's other side. She silently noticed him, turning for a moment, then turning back.

John had turned off the remaining Eagle's main lights, leaving only the light streaming through the open door to illuminate the Alphans a little as he walked down the stairs and over to them. He had known instantly this was about Psyoliyask.

Now she turned back towards Psyoliyask, raised her arm and slim finger again, and slowly drew an invisible line from Psyoliyask to the Moon, and said, "From my home star to my new home." To John, he felt that Maya, whether she knew it or not, was showing the journey she had taken personally; and she was, for the first time, declaring the Moon as her home. What had taken her finger only seconds to "draw" had taken her weeks to grow through -- with more to come, he was certain.

Then she looked at one and then the other of the two men who were now most important to her, the Commander who had saved her and given her a chance at a new life, and the Security Officer who had protected her, had given her a chance despite his doubts, and had helped make her feel increasingly at home. She smiled at both.

Then she turned back to Psyoliyask, and said nothing for a long time. John, like Tony, was ready to give her as much time as could be spared.

Finally, after a long silence, and still staring at it, Maya started speaking, quietly, slowly, only a sentence or two at a time, clearly into the silent night air.

"I am the last Psychon to leave our home'star and now its neighborhood.

"This is probably the last time I will see it directly with my own eyes. Perhaps the last of my people ever to do so."

She paused and sighed, then continued. "Its life-giving warmth does not shine on Psychon any more. After so long doing so, it no longer warms anyone.

"All of its surviving children have left, and now it stands alone, its last-departing daughter staring at it from light-years away.

"May it shine in peace now, and be remembered."

She paused again for many moments, tears running down her cheeks, then turned to Commander Koenig with a sad look, saying, "I feel responsible for saying some final, special words; but," she sobbed slightly, "I am not a poet, and have no idea what those words should be."

Tony, surprised, caught John's eyes, and then John looked to Maya, saying with a steady voice, "Maya, Daughter of Mentor of Psychon, you just said them, with perfect, poetic beauty."

She turned to John, then Tony. Both were smiling, she managed a grateful smile to both, before turning back to stare one final time. Understanding their point, she also found it had not mattered that she had not said the words in Psychon; just so long as the words had been said. Then, however, she found something she did want to say in both Alphan and Psychon.

"Thanks and farewell, Psyoliyask," she said, and then similarly repeated in Psychon, "Anar at bae'sohna, Psychon'da Liyasla Sasskas."

She simply looked for a few more heartbeats, tears glistening in her eyes, then blinked hard, turned away for the last time, and began walking back to the Eagle, with dignity even as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, flanked by John and Tony.

Alexander was waiting silently at the top of the stairs. Curious, he had moved from the Eagle interior to the doorway to watch. There could be no doubt Maya was taking a long last look at her home star, and out of respect for her, he looked at it too, thinking that out of all the horror that had hurt Alpha there, that something -- someone -- good had come from there too. He suddenly felt guilty for some of his foolish behavior towards her after her arrival on Alpha. When she had felt the most intensely out of place, he had probably only reminded her of it and her father.

As they climbed the steps, he nodded respectfully to her, and she smiled a bit.

She entered the Eagle silently, carefully stowed her kit in the proper place for liftoff, and simply took the science seat again. At Koenig's surprised look, she said, "for some final scans of Bridge'world and to see if there are any early signs of the Alk^inharda Bridge forming."

She looked exhausted, but her logic was sound, so he nodded, and headed for the pilot module after Tony. She could rest shortly, on the way back.

Karedepoulos, not used to long missions either, was already in a seat next to the bulkhead, resting his head against it.

John was going to give one of his rare "well done" comments, but decided to reserve it for de-briefing, after they crossed the true Bridge, when the whole mission group was present. Everyone had contributed, either finding or eliminating possibilities, hauling raw material, or providing necessary support. Every Eagle that had journeyed here had been involved. Now, they could only hope it would work, that the Moon and its inhabitants would survive the passage.

Once they were in space and on their way back to Alpha, Maya came forward to report -- while clearly having to repress fatigue -- that she had observed some "curious radiation patterns which indirectly suggest an energy build-up past the nearest point of lunar approach to Kaska'lon."

"How long before that point for the Moon?"

"8.273 hours."

"Eagle return?"

"Us, approximately 4.71 hours."

"Maya, get some sleep."

"More readings may occur--"

"So there is nothing at the moment?"

"No, our accelerating exit pace is outpacing the increase in readings, so they are below threshold levels for now."

"Then set the system to record, transfer key indicators up front, and get a couple hours rest. You can check for more later, then get even more sleep."

"I can handle--"

"Maya, that was not a request," he said, gently but firmly. "Rest easy, I will awaken you if something unexpected happens."

She knew he was right, so she said, "Yes, Commander," with a pleasant smile, then moved to the back. Koenig thumbed the control to close the doors between the pilot module and pod.

Tony smiled at John and said, "Well, I'd say her first off-Moon mission was a rousing success."

John momentarily thought back to Psychon, of her playfully introducing herself to him in a not so playful-looking form, to now, flying flights in missions, analyzing her heart out, finding solutions, and now speaking for her scattered people, in poetic words about her home star. Yet she was starting to find a balance, slowly letting her apparently indestructible lighter nature start showing through again, coming to trust that her new community was not going to trample on it, and was even starting to welcome it.

She had gone through many mental transformations in less than two months. When he had met her, she had been a playful yet dignified, naive young woman, sheltered by her father -- even from major aspects of himself. In a harrowing day, she had listened to Koenig, had opened up to the possibility her father had become a monster, and had sought the truth despite everything she knew. She had left Psychon humiliated and devastated, losing her father, her world, and seemingly her future, feeling half-comforted yet half-afraid as she walked, a lone Psychon, into a base of almost three-hundred aliens, more people than she had known in years, not all of them as welcoming as others. She had learned quickly, had made some friends quickly, had been humble yet helpful, burying some of her past. Now she had become a key member of Alpha, had gained some acceptance, made more friends, and....

Suddenly, his decision could not be any clearer.

Even though it had been almost a minute, Tony was still looking at John, patiently for a change, and John responded to Tony's supportive statement of Maya.

"Yes, it has."

"In case you are asking, I think Maya has earned the position. I see her potential now, and her actual abilities, and mostly good decisions, except for taking a few unnecessary risks while transformed. And she is very willing to defend us, like back in the chamber. Even when doing target practice with a stun gun, as soon as I presented a scenario about protecting us, she responded. Some rough edges and lots to learn, especially leading groups, though she has started standing up for herself a little, and--"

John interrupted Tony's monologue. "Yes, I think she has earned the position, and yes, she has rough edges to work on."

He would still have to discuss it with the rest of the officers, still have to offer it to Maya, and various other steps, but little doubt remained that it would be hers.

Tony knew that, but he still said, "Good," with a smile.

A-397 DAB 0200-0600: Crashes

Finally, just after Flights 2 and 6 arrived safely, the first flights from Kaskalon to return, the debris started arriving.

"Helena, the first one is inbound, farside," Sandra announced.

"Do we have any camera nearby?"

"No." A minute later.... "Moonquake reported by Geology department."

"What about the close call piece?"

"Now one hour out."

The first Eagle of Flight 3 was about to arrive. After Alan and Helena conferred about the new idea John's team had had, Helena agreed to launch the one Combat Eagle which had remained on Alpha, to trail the errant piece.

"We have seen too many last minute gravitational disturbances," Helena stated as a form of agreeing with Alan about the dangers.

When that communication was over, Helena realized something, turned to Sandra, and quietly said, "Sorry, I did not mean to remind--"

"It is okay, Helena," Sandra said.

Some months back, Sandra had a short relationship with Mike Ryan before he had met an unfortunate end by the Black Sun, an incident which had began with an asteroid's wobbly path near the base.

Sandra turned back to coordinate the new launch, and several landings as Eagles continued bringing in the numerous satellites forming Alpha's own orbital network. After someone in Reconnaissance had pointed something out, Helena had agreed to leave four remaining until near the end. Dismantling Alpha's whole network too early was unnecessary.

Helena's mind wandered as the junior officer coordinated.

Helena had not liked reminding Sandra of yet one more lost man in her life. Peter, her fiancé. Mike, an apparent boyfriend for only a short time. Paul, whom she had been very involved with. Three such losses, two of them deaths, had crashed upon her. A terrible year for the young woman, who had seemed to adjust remarkably quickly early on, but was now struggling. Gone was the quick to react and quick to recover Sandra. The quick-to-react aspect, both good and bad, was still there, but the recovery was still prompting continuing worry in Helena.

Though John had expressed regret at not being able to include Sandra in the massive mission, despite his and Helena's own good reasoning regarding the mission makeup and leaving enough officers on Alpha, Helena had thought it better for Sandra. Part of her perhaps needed to get off-base, yet now did not seem the right time. When the right time might be again, was an open question in Helena's mind.

In orbit, Alan started maneuvering towards a two-Eagle-sized chunk of Graktor ship, then eased towards its flat part. They had entered a brand-new part of the mission, this part dubbed Operation: Boxing. Hauling had been thrilling, a directed yet still-wild mass drive. Now it was time for some boxing. Odd cylinders of metal had been found, not from the Satazius as the rest of the Hauler 'pods' -- but from another destroyed alien ship. They had been the perfect counterweights for the rig, the cylinders held up front to balance the weight of the diamond rig at the back end. That the cylinders were on either side -- but a little in front of -- the 'head' of the Eagle, and that the cylinders were colored black, had prompted Tony, it seemed, to jokingly dub a Hauler Eagle as The Boxer.

Only now, they were going to use the counterweights as fists to push, not pull, more debris from orbit. The Eagle was facing backwards on its orbit, needing to push against the debris, to slow it down and bring it out of orbit. This could not have been done with the Kaskalon debris, for Hauling had needed to be precise given the distance, and pushing at debris in this manner was a much coarser action. Yet here, in lunar orbit, little was needed: a time window, the minimum amount of delta-V needed to force a de-orbit to a safe crash site, and doing it slowly enough that the debris would not roll over the 'gloves' and hit the Eagle. There was still a little risk....

Sandra indicated the window had started. It was a ten-minute window. Plenty of time. He first nudged the object slightly with a black counterweight, to null most of its rotation. Then, waiting for the flat side to line up just right, he moved slightly forward again. Slow acceleration, careful watching, pulling back slightly when it started rolling over, waiting for it, nudging again, and more slowing. In six minutes, he had it done.

He transmitted some of the techniques to the other three haulers, re-emphasizing, heavily, the caution aspect. "If it starts rolling over, pull back. That is an absolute order. No messing around with that. Abandon the piece totally if you cannot safely nudge it again."

He then moved towards the next piece, a chunk of one of Jarak's ships.

They had taken most of the largest pieces already with Hauls, but now concentrated on some of the others.

The task continued for hours, coordinated via Sandra, who was helping point out better-sized or -shaped chunks.

The only other interruption was from John, asking if having Maya finish Eagle 1's flight and landing it was good practice or outside of Alan's training plans.

"That's fine John. Helpful even. Just note it's been a few days since she's flown. Please keep track of anything that should be discussed, and let me know the results."

A-397 DAB 0700-1000: Approach and Bridge

For the first time in active-status history, Moonbase Alpha was shutting down its gravity generators. They had worked flawlessly after the finish of its shakedown years before Breakaway, and which had functioned through every alien attack and other form of damage the Moon had taken, now had to be shut down, by "contract" with the computer systems of the mysterious and absent race who had built the Alkinarda Bridge many millennia before.

Fearing a potentially bumpy ride combined with normal lunar gravity, one-sixth of Earth normal, there was a check for securing items, shutting down any equipment or experiment dependent on normal gravity, activating the pumps to empty the Recreation Center's pool, secure any aquariums that might need it and anything else that the combination of low gravity and bumps that might upset.

The "Star Movers" or Bridge Builders, or whatever they were really once called, had left no indication, one way or another, on what to expect in this regard. The Bridge computers had given warnings that absolute safety could not be guaranteed sending the whole Moon through, so there was no telling if something unusual would happen.

"We are at 64 seconds, Commander," Maya said.

"Continue."

Benes continued receiving readiness reports. This was a "false" deadline, Alpha's own. They actually had a full hour of extra leeway before the true deadline, but no one had any idea if there might be a problem totally shutting down a system which had been running continuously for so many years. Components in it had been repaired over the years, but redundancies in the system as a whole made that possible without interrupting full service. Shutting down the whole thing was essentially new.

The countdown continued. "Sixteen seconds," Maya said. There was a readout on her monitor, but she only seemed to be looking at it for lack of any task of her own, or accepting that Alphans appreciated some redundant checks.

"Sandra, go on zero unless countermanded."

When the countdown reached zero without a countermanding order, she shut it down through a complex process that still only took a few seconds.

Everyone could feel the change, and though not unusual in itself, to feel the change within Moonbase Alpha was still rather momentous.

There were no reports of problems to Benes, Verdeschi, or Koenig.

The remaining four satellites had been retrieved by the last Eagle still flying -- Alan's -- and were now secure as well.

Between the pre-Kaskalon Hauling of alien ship debris orbiting the Moon, and the post-Kaskalon "Boxing" of more, it was estimated roughly 85% of the metallic alien mass that had been in orbit a week ago was now on the Moon.

All Eagles were now landed and shut down, and this had been re-checked. The warnings about no artificial gravity sources had been strongly put, and first stated. That seemed very important. The first officer checked with the flight officer, Alan Carter, to make sure that status had not changed. Remote sites had had their artificial gravity shut down hours before before, as well. Verdeschi checked again that weapons and shields had remained completely deactivated. This time, someone added that they had taped over the toggle cover to further protect it from artificial activation.

Everyone was taking this very seriously, after Helena had, early after first reports of the rules, made it very clear this was critical.

Still, it made the Commander nervous. Not so much about missing something, though that was a possibility, but about having to shut down a number of defensive systems. The idea of this Bridge and its use was still all on local legends and hearsay. He trusted Maya, but she had freely admitted it was all still sketchy.

"Commander!" Maya's voice called out. "I am detecting further elevation in particles suggesting a major event at closet approach to Kaska'lon. That part of the system appears to be continuing to proceed."

They were committed to this process, however.

Now was approaching the Bridge system's final deadline for having banned equipment turned off. This was likely the point where something more would start happening. The deadline came and went, and Maya was promptly asked if there was any new sign.

"Nothing yet. Wait, indirect evidence of a highly-patterned force field. We are being cocooned now!"

"Protection from forces inside the Bridge?" Koenig asked.

"I assume the same. There must be some reason."

In milliseconds, the theory that the Bridge's energy toll was to exactly pay for merely opening the Bridge was shot down, unless this shield now forming was actually somehow a natural extension of the Bridge.

John asked Maya, and she responded it might be a possibility, but she didn't know, at least not yet.

"Sandra, any reports of stress on the bulkheads?"

"None. No extra pressure at all. I doubt even the moondust is being disturbed."

"I estimate it has reached approximately fifty centimeters in thickness, plus or minus ten."

"More than on Kaskalon," Tony supplied.

The Moon had been cocooned.

"Sandra, bring up the closest approach point on the screen. Magnify."

On the left side of the screen was Kaskalon, its right half blue from the light of the Shepherds. It was the sight to its right that drew the attention. Visible even with the blue nebula behind it, something similar-looking to the Alkinarda Rapids was forming there, yet much smaller, and it seemed to be gaining more of a pattern, as well as growing, as if preparing to swallow a much larger object than normal. It was the first time they had seen, in visible light, one end of the Bridge.

Over the many minutes remaining, they watched it grow, and Sandra had to step back the viewer's zoom level faster than they were approaching, attesting to the Bridge beginning's increase in size.

"Maya, is it growing fast enough?"

"It is on a geometrical curve, and will be large enough -- just barely -- when we reach it."

The area's patterns continued going through complicated changes, as its diameter continued increasing. The patterns themselves looked increasingly more organized.

"256 seconds to contact," Maya announced.

Though counting in human time systems, she seemed to settle into picking on numbers which were multiples of 16, still using decimal numbers but seeming to find multiples of 16 to be 'round' numbers to her. It was a quirk that would probably fade, from her speech if not her thought patterns, over time.

"Sandra. Full base intercom."

"Ready."

"Attention, all members of Moonbase Alpha. We are at four minutes to encountering the Alkinarda Bridge. We are entering an unknown again, but I again have every confidence we will get through it. We'll talk again on the other side."

Maya counted down the time, in increments of sixteen seconds, as the Bridge continued to grow, a nasty looking swirl of half-organized patterns, until the cameras could not be stepped back any further to scan the entire width of the growing area.

All across Moonbase, people looked at monitors. Those remaining at posts in the surface levels were either treated to, or repelled by, the sight out their windows, as almost as large as Atheria grew in their sight, and even more chaotic looking.

A few couples embraced, though most simply held hands and watched.

Babies were secured in personal carriers.

Even knowing, in their mind anyway, the doom the blue giant stars would have brought their way, purposefully throwing themselves into some sort of controlled but powerful space warp was still a frightening prospect.

That some people still felt concern -- or more than that -- over doing this on the advice of their "resident alien," some took comfort that it had still been Commander John Koenig's decision in the end. He had seen them through various dangers, even Atheria itself. He had trusted Arra then, despite support from only one other. He trusted Maya now, with support from a number of others. Still, others probably had some doubts.

Back in Command Center, Maya read off her final non-zero number. "Sixteen seconds."

There was quiet efficiency, as people took various readings, then braced for "impact."

"Zero."

Had the numerous satellites not been retrieved and secured for the journey, they could have shown something remarkable: on touching the "surface" of the Alk^inharda Bridge, the strange patterns instantly swept all across the surface of the Moon, faster than the Moon plunged into the Bridge opening. It vanished from normal space.

On Alpha, the strange patterns on the Big Screen seemed to instantly shift from swirling patterns on what appeared to be a circular surface, to swirling patterns on what seemed to be a cylindrical surface. "'2001,'" muttered an operative. "Sort of."

The patterns were dense, giving the appearance of a fluid yet complete wall. The patterns flew by at enormous velocity, though whether "speed" really had any meaning in this extra-spatial environment, perhaps only Maya could speculate.

Everyone wondered why it was called a Bridge, because it clearly looked more like a tunnel. It seemed the Bridge Builders, or whoever had really coined the ancient poetry, or both, were extremely fond of metaphor.

"Debris!" Tony shouted.

It seemed no one cleaned up the Bridge. There were fragments approaching at high speeds. With the Moon taking up the entire diameter of the tunnel, every fragment stuck in the Bridge hit the Moon, or more accurately....

"The shield is taking the blows," one operative, Kate Bullen, said.

"That is one powerful shield," another stated.

The ground rumbled slightly beneath them, then again.

On the Moon, the incredibly powerful shield could not protect a few of the highest surfaces completely against the pressure of the "walls" of the Bridge tunnel, forcing the shield to retreat and expose one of the tallest lunar mountains, sheering it off only moments after entering the Bridge. Another in the same range followed a second later. Then the whole Moon shook slightly as a variation in the patterns constricted against the shield. The shield held, and protected everything inside it, but not without a harder jolt.

That stirred up Command Center.

"Two moonquakes, origin being calculated!" Sandra said over the noise of nervous Alphans.

"What about the last?"

"Tunnel variations!" Maya said.

"Variations?"

"It tried to constrict a few meters, maybe; but was held by the shield. That seems to be another purpose of the force field, to force the tunnel back to full width."

"How elastic is this system?"

"I do not know, Commander."

No one asked what would happen if the constrictions grew to kilometers or worse, especially considering this was apparently the first -- and last -- time the Bridge was handling an entire planetoid. Would there be a point where the elasticity failed and the Moon was crushed, or where the Moon might shatter the Bridge in a way that shattered the Moon as well? This was probably the nature of the lack of guarantee of absolute safety.

The journey was frightening minutes long. Six more moonquakes occurred, along with some more -- less radical -- generalized shaking as well.

"I take it back. Not '2001,'" the one voice said.

That was only reconfirmed a moment later, as another asteroid appeared in a camera's view, growing huge in an instant and then flashing briefly as it was instantly incinerated, the adaptive shield probably putting up reflective interference patterns.

"Commander," came Maya's voice, filled with rich relief.

"I see it."

On the Big Screen, ahead in the tunnel, there seemed to be a solid cap to the tube, made of the same "flat" swirling patterns they had seen a few minutes before.

"The Bridge End," Tony said as it began to expand in size, still well ahead.

"Time?"

"Estimate only," Maya responded. "Approximately 18 seconds."

Nineteen seconds and more debris later, they reached it, and suddenly the screen changed from multi-colored swirling patterns to blue.

"Commander," Maya said ten seconds later, "the force field has completely evaporated."

The Bridge 'contract' had stated they'd know when they could resume normal activities....

"Sandra. Remote Surface Camera 20."

She made the connections, then panned upward, and soon found the Bridge End, retreating behind them, and already starting to shrink as well.

In the next few minutes, they started noticing their surroundings. Surface cameras all over the Moon began panning around. Everywhere they looked, they were surrounded by blue stars. They were packed everywhere, not close to the Moon, but all around, close to each other -- too close to discern anything from outside of them. The effect was not totally unlike the Alkinarda Shepherds, but yet was very different. The glow was gentler, but bright, soft and lovely to most eyes. Even Maya, not subjected directly to their glare but looking on the screen, seemed entranced.

Something else was missing. The Alkinarda itself. "We were supposed to come out on the other side of the Alk^inharda," Maya said. "This is not what I expected."

Reports started coming in, but fortunately, there was no moderate or major damage, just a few things dislodged here and there.

"Sandra, re-activate the Artificial Gravity Generators on Alpha."

This, unfortunately, did not go as smoothly. Half of Alpha got full gravity, some got some, and the rest still had just lunar gravity.

The problem was quickly -- as quickly as people trying to move in hallways in lunar gravity -- traced, and full gravity restored in a half hour. An injury was reported. One of the technicians rushing to the scene of the unresponsive AGG regulator had knocked himself out cold after hitting the ceiling. He would recover.

Orders began flying out to do full systems checks, and to Reconnaissance to start laying out the satellite network in orbit again.

A scan from surface revealed that of the alien ship debris which had to be left in orbit, none was left. For the first time in decades, the Moon was free of anything orbiting it.

Ten minutes later, Alan requested if the two current pilot trainees could be spared to help with the satellite mission. One would fly with Alan, one with Bill.

"Are you two up for it?" John asked the women.

"If you can spare us," Sandra stated, Maya simply adding a nod with a smile.

"Go."

"Commander," Maya said. "We are traveling trans-light again. We seem to be in a mostly hollow sphere of these stars, and went trans-light almost immediately after leaving the Bridge, with the usual hyperspatial bubble. We will approach a star around the midway point in this star bubble, but will not enter its space, and will remain light-months away.

"Okay, report noted. Enjoy your flight."

Other operatives sorted the new verbal reports. People were streaming out to reactivate the AGG systems at remote sites, the laser barriers at some of the nuclear sites, and other things that had had to be deactivated. Already, some normality was returning.

Survey teams were given the weekend off, but those scheduled to head back would do so on Monday, in two days. Some would go back on long survey, others would be sent to exactly pinpoint, photograph, and start analyzing Kaskalon station debris, along with the newly-"Boxed" debris.

Survey teams remaining here would do as they always spent part of their early time back on base: sifting through what they had brought back. In this case, it was Flight 2's meager but still somewhat Eagle-filling debris from 'rotting' cities. Some technological bits would end up in Maya's and van der Mir's labs, and others' probably, while the metal would go to the Metallurgy and Manufacturing departments for any further analysis.

There had been a number of moonquakes, but several had occurred in one particular area of the Moon, so another Eagle was dispatched there to get first sight of whatever had been happening as the Moon was transported through the bridge.

Clive Kander would have a lot more pictures and video footage to sift through and archive.

De-briefings would start on Monday.

The massive, complicated mission had finally ended, not without some disappointments, but overall, very well. The Moon was safely through the Bridge, eight pieces of alien space station debris, each much larger than an Eagle, had been hauled back. 8 out of the hoped-for 9-12 was not bad.

Eagle fuel would need to be prepared. Besides the usual post-flight checks, more thorough checks of all Eagles used would be made, but starting more on Monday, as many Eagles were still in flight putting things back to normal. Flight 2 had not made spectacular finds. Psychon and Psychon's debris had temporarily finished the titanium problem, but Sanderson had identified more sources out in the cold desert, enough for a safety margin. He had also found a few other materials -- again not a huge haul, but more than expected.

Every single Eagle pre-planned to the mission had served a purpose. The weeks of planning had paid off in spades. Some Eagles had changed Flights and/or missions, and a few more had joined in last-minute, but overall, it had worked well.

He had remarkable people.

He left Tony in Command Center, deciding to seek rest.

S-398 DAB 0800-1120: Familiar Sound

It was an odd report which was in Sandra's queue in the morning. Service was receiving occasional reports of mid-sized, black-colored birds flying through hallways, and at least one in a cafeteria, stealing food. She checked with one of Tony's people in Security, and that revealed they had similar reports.

She couldn't remember Zoology having any birds like that, so it wasn't long before she suspected alien animals had snuck on board some of the Eagles on the planet.

Several commlock checks revealed many of the people previously on the surface of Kaskalon currently were in Inactive status, so she bypassed them for now.

A report came that new cackles had been heard in Biosphere IV.

She eventually reached Bill. She explained, and the recognition and response was almost instantaneous and rather surprising, given Bill's usual nature: "Bloody hell, we've got those pesky coldbirds on Alpha now?" In a calmer voice, he continued: "Pedro tried catching a few on the planet, but they were too elusive, and our one try at tranquilizer darts, just before we left the area of the biosphere, did nothing but rile up the whole mob. I had no idea they were sneaky too."

Sandra asked Diane Bell to have Eagle maintenance personnel look inside the passenger pods of any Eagles that had been on Kaskalon. They turned up bird signs hidden in not-readily-visible spots in most but not all surface-visiting Eagles, but in Eagles 1 and 4, they found one and two nesting pairs, respectively. The pair on Eagle 1 had found a box of tissue paper to shred some and make a nest, and already had an egg underneath a passenger seat.

"Efficient critters," an operative from Montana muttered.

Sandra decided to rouse Zoologist Pedro Gutierez from sleep, and two hours later, he reported they were surprisingly docile. "These things were very territorial against us on the planet. It's almost as if they know they're in our territory now. I boxed all three sets, including the family, without much trouble. I'll see if another tranquilizer works on one of them so we can start catching the rest."

To the 'efficient critters' comment, which Sandra had conveyed, Pedro replied his guess was that they already had a nest ready, back on the planet, but had abandoned it in favor of the Eagle.

"A species of stowaways at heart?" Sandra asked, bemused.

S-398 DAB 1400-1420: Shelter Space?

It was a Sunday, but many of those from the mission, after having slept much of the morning, were still wrapping up some activities, including some who preferred writing up their reports early after a mission.

John and Tony were talking in Meeting Room CC, well ahead of the meeting Maya had requested with them. For once, they would beat her to a meeting, but only because they had decided to have an impromptu status discussion between the two of them.

In the more than twenty-four hours which followed the Bridge passage, the satellite network was restored to one of its earlier, more evenly spaced patterns. So many satellites had gotten bumped to non-prime orbits over the number of encounters. Computer could adjust to a degree, but a few had been picked up and re-deployed at intervals. This mass re-deployment had put the network back into prime condition.

John shared a hardcopy photo with Tony.

"Flat-top hills, on the Moon? This looks sheared."

"The site of the most jolting series of quakes. Half a mountain range is like that. Over the whole Moon, Geology thinks we lost the tops of four of our five highest peaks, and fifteen of the top twenty-five."

"Now I understand that warning Maya read. Good thing the ILC didn't build with a alpine view in mind."

Of course, that reminded them of the ILC having built Moonbase Alpha in a crater that had threatened to become a lake if the Moon had kept its Ariel-provided atmosphere. It would have been difficult to blame the ILC either way, for who would have expected the Moon to receive an atmosphere and start having pouring rain, or passing through a 'tunnel' in space that was not quite elastic enough and had sheared some mountains.

The discovery of perhaps a 1-2 dozen coldbirds on Alpha was a surprise to all, but Gutierez had found a useful sedative, and a few more of the birds caught now. Security was now also armed with dart guns, and a sharpshooter was hidden in Biosphere IV. Stun guns would probably be simpler, but would more likely lead to injury being overwhelmed by a strong blast or hit while on a high perch and then falling to the hard floor or ground. How at least one coldbird had snuck into the Biosphere, unseen, was a little troubling, given the double-airlock system where people could check for strays. Then again, people were supposed to check on the way out. No one had been concerned about animals trying to sneak in.

On Eagles and Alpha, the birds had gotten very quiet, it seemed, except however many had found their way to the Biosphere. Leaving an unfamiliar species in that space was unacceptable.

Maya then showed up, four minutes before the meeting, but surprised this time, apparently used to usually being the first. After greetings, she got right to business. Kaskalon information still filled the boards, and probably would for at least a few more days, before it was all re-photographed, transcribed, and the boards cleared. For now, they remained, still handy, it seemed, for she walked up and pointed to one of the Bridge poems:

"I think we're in Shelter Space," she stated, simply.

"So it will close," Tony repeated from the poem. "We closed the Bridge. Then that's what that poem was about. The Moon was the most giant thing the Bridge had ever sent."

"Question is," John started, "if we are in Shelter Space, and supposedly followed the Giants, are they here?"

"It would not be both the Star Movers and Star Makers who would get to Shelter Space. The name and who built the Bridge both imply the Star Movers hid themselves in Shelter Space. That is what the legends say."

"Okay, if it is just the so-called Star Movers -- the Orcayi -- who came here, and this is Shelter Space, did they linger?" John asked.

Maya shrugged. "No data. This could have been temporary hiding."

"Well, let's send some standard greetings."

Tony leaned back. "Even if this is Shelter Space, we're still stuck with the usual problem that we can't leave the Moon's bubble without being sub-light again. All these stars are light-years away, and the one ahead we won't even get much closer."

Maya shrugged. It was another open end in one of the poems.

John looked over the ancient poems again. Pre-mission, the lines had become familiar due to memorization and a lot of discussion. Post-mission, most of the lines were familiar out of understanding -- but some were still elusive. Had they missed some opportunities?

They would have to ponder more, but for now, the well of ideas dried up. Everyone needed more rest when they were actually still fairly active returning Alpha to normal or getting new analyses going.

It was, however, time for another topic.

"Maya, the officers and I have been talking. You have shown excellent performance over the last two months, have learned about Alphan technology, offered some early ideas of integrating or expanding some of what you have seen. You have worked well with some others in Technical Section and elsewhere, individually, in teams, and in the Science Board. You are mission-capable and a ready asset on missions for technical and other reasons, have shown plenty of initiative and caution, usually mixed well, and some leadership skills. You have proven you are doing it for Alpha's benefit. You bring an unique perspective, and it has become clear it is valuable. We would like to offer you the open position of Science Officer.

"You would start with some limited direct authority, initially over Research Unit and Computer Department, which may expand over time. You will receive more training. You may encounter some friction, but you have consistently shown an even-natured, patient, and increasingly self-assertive approach to this as well, and we can help you work through any of the rougher parts in this or elsewhere in the role.

"You do not have to answer now. In fact, we recommend you think about it and respond to us two days from now."

She seemed surprised, yet perhaps not entirely, and also took it with the professionalism they had seen was part of her nature, as well as with the other part: a smile.

"I am... honored you feel all of that about me. I will do as you asked and recommended, and think about it. Thank you very much. I appreciate it."

S-398 DAB 1800-1900: Spectre Rising

In some cases, too much free time could lead to idle hands, but in the case of Cernik, it was idle hands and idle eyes. Not that they really had much more free time, but the disruption in their schedule had created more gaps.

In one of the book libraries, there were some books stuck back in what on Earth could have been called a dusty corner, except there was not much dust even in ignored corners of Alpha -- though there was the occasional dead fly escaped from Biosphere IV. A few boxes of donated books sat neglected, a mix no one had felt would be wanted enough to put them on the shelves, or which no one had had any time to bother with. A finished puzzle book kept only because someone thought that maybe an unfilled copy could be produced at some point. A couple of novels at the lower end of the romance novel scale. A book on paranormal focusing mostly on séances. A book written about a musical group no one cared about. One on duck hunting. Even horse race betting techniques.

It was the book on the paranormal that for some reason attracted Cernik, perhaps more for a laugh than anything. He wondered where it came from. Misguided Mateo or one of his group perhaps? No, probably not. What silly appeal was there to something like this? Maybe Eva would get a kick out of it too he thought as he page through it a little. Greg would probably laugh about it too.

Greg was fairly happy with the mission. He had shown his worth, had even had his reasoning prevail regarding dead city salvaging vs. general survey. At least one Eagle had needed to do the latter, and he had not only one out, but shown some good, though not really truly impressive, results for it. It was too bad Koenig didn't seem to appreciate it much, at least not yet. Gorski had not been effusive either, but had thrown Sanderson a few more compliments than Koenig had to this point.

He set mission thoughts aside, still feeling happy about it over all but wanting to relax. Greg wondered what to do tonight. It seemed he had been abandoned by Susan. Just when a small part of him was starting to wonder if she might be someone he could have a serious relationship at a later point, she had stopped communicating with him.

He wasn't stupid, and took the hint. Too many times, George had started crying around him. He had ranted too many times, too loudly, and even though she had agreed at first, she had eventually rejected his presence. Her sympathetic ear only went so far, it seemed.

He was left thinking about Jane, Joan, Sue, and Eva, four of the women he had had friendships or a relationship with over the course of this turbulent year: Poor, sweet Jane had died a two months ago; Joan had outright rejected him not long after; Sue had stopped talking to him.

Time to find his few friends and find something fun to do on this rock.

Then he got a call.

It seemed unfair to poor Greg, Eva thought. He had lost Jane, friendship with Joan, and now apparently Susan.

He was an excellent asset to Alpha as well, and had proved it again on the latest mission, from what she had heard, though she had to filter out some complaints about his attitude. He had rough edges, to be sure, but without closer friends, those would only get worse, not better.

She decided to visit him, not as a co-worker, but as a friend. When she found herself checking herself in the mirror more, she wondered if she was entirely sure of her motivations.

DCS 7418,229;210-308: Grey Giant

The young Archon stared at the alien image screen as his Consul ordered an expert in the Starmover language to manipulate the controls.

Starmover. It was a ridiculous mythic name if ever he had heard one. That and Starmaker. Not to mention both of them together being termed the Stargiants. Some alien idiot with a hyperbolic sense of poetic license.

He was standing in a small chamber at the bottom of a sloping, narrow hole which he had to lower himself into. The Starmovers were apparently not above making everyone enter the chamber on the same footing.

The Dorcons had long ago "obtained" the secrets of manipulating the Starmovers' ultimately silly tests, and that information was now put to good use by the guards which carried it out while the Archon, his Consul, and other guards waited in safety. Once the childish tests were past, the Consul, more guards, and the Archon could enter the chamber -- albeit via the same annoyingly humbling path as everyone else. At least it would get him off the blasted disconcerting force field outside, which lacked interference patterns, into a space where the force fields presented interference patterns so it looked like he was walking on a floor rather than air. Even the force field layer shedding was better, just a constant soft hum, instead of the city-wide grating at intervals.

The Archon was still musing over an odd discovery made from orbit on their arrival. Their maps had shown positions of crashed Exponential Bombs launched by some unknown power -- perhaps the equally ridiculously-named Starmakers. However, it had just been realized that not a single one could be found in scans from orbit. Had there been inhabitants on the unknown ship that had passed through Bridgestar's space somehow removed the dampened missile ships? He had already ordered the Consul to make sure the fleet was defensively prepared in case those ships were used as weapons. They were easy to detect, of course.

"Here, Archon. This computer is not acting according to the information we obtained. Though it does present the Prior Transport option, it does not offer Passage as expected."

"Why the difference?"

"I do not know. Perhaps the Passage option is after the Prior."

"Okay, then view the prior spaceship."

What was presented did not seem like a ship. It was a non-distinct, somewhat uneven shade of grey, with a couple circular features.

"De-magnify," the Consul ordered.

More of the same, the same order from the Consul, and again, more of the same. The linguist/technician continued on without an order now. More grey, more circles.

"How large is this... whatever?" the Archon asked.

"This computer does not give size information," the underling stated.

"I think it is..." the Consul started, then trailed off as finally, twenty or so de-magnifying steps in, other features appeared that made it clear this non-ship was actually an astronomical body. Five more steps, edges appeared.

"It appears to be an unknown-size planetoid, Consul, Archon," the underling stated.

"Someone sent a planetoid through the Bridge?" the Consul asked so the Archon would not have to ask a similar such question.

"Yes, Consul."

"I did not know that could be done."

"No one ever has, as far as we know. Probably no opportunity to make such an attempt."

"Is this the unknown object whose trail we have been tracking?" the Archon asked.

"Almost certainly, Archon," the technician affirmed.

"Would a Psychon have known how to do this?" the Archon asked his Consul.

"No way of knowing. Psychons resided close by, so they could have heard more information, even though it is rumored they avoided this space."

"Fine, arrange to have our main fleet sent through to the other side. How long ago did the small world cross the Aliarda Bridge?"

"We missed them by days."

"Then we've nearly caught up," the Consul stated, "and should soon find them on the other side."

"Good. Proceed."

There was a Continue "button" to be "pressed," but the planetoid was not removed. Instead, a symbol appeared that even one not knowing the Starmover's language realized seemed to be a refusal symbol.

"What is wrong?"

"The Aliarda Bridge is broken."

"What?"

"This computer states it has been shattered by the passage of this grey planetoid."

Then something else appeared, centered on the screen, over the grey planetoid. The linguist/technician translated.

"The Aliarda Bridge is closed," the Consul quietly stated. "Are we sure about that, though?"

"Yes, Consul, the system is now refusing further input." The screen was frozen with the poem superimposed over the image of the mysterious grey planetoid.

"Curses on this planetoid. Order the main fleet to prepare a course around the Aliarda, and call in the splinter fleet to follow around the opposite aspect."

There was little more that could be tried, and they were soon back on the surface. The Aliarda was in full view across most of the sky, while Redsun rose, only it wasn't so--

"Surface par..., this... Flagship." The interference present from their arrival was, according to the obtained information, supposed to vanish on passing the test; but it had not. "Redsun is... ightening, repeat, ... has start... brightening."

They stood there, looking at something unfathomable. A non-variable star, for no apparent reason, was getting brighter, not just from rising higher in the sky, but intrinsically.

"Sci... reports apparen... Expon... Bombs detonated on surface of the star... prior to the brightening, but... the star itse... reacting."

"Defensive posture," the Consul ordered. "What fleet is here?"

"None... we can detect."

"Someone had to have moved the Exponential Bombs."

"Back to my surface transport," the Archon ordered. Ironically, the Archon's Safeship was too large to land in the open space not far from the control room, and they had to start moving to make the walk to a further location, for the dampening field disrupted the simple transporters. A Meson Converter might not have worked much better, however, even if they had one.

"Shield shedding," a guard warned as they walked. An Archon never ran in sight of others.

The eerie, city-wide sound started. Problem was, it did not stop, and only got louder -- deafening. Instead of a thin layer, many thin layers seemed to be going. They could even clearly feel themselves dropping by tiny increments. Suddenly, with a booming noise all around them, they fell to the ground. As they picked themselves up in surprise and started walking again, their ears ringing painfully, they became the first to walk on the surface of the ancient city's walkways in uncounted ages.

If the Flagship was still talking to them, no one could hear through ringing ears. The Consul pointed to the communication activator, and shook his head.

Something massive was happening here. Time for a strategic retreat to outside the system, and to seed one or two Probe Ships into the area, and wait to perhaps claim the ancient city for Dorca when more certainty returned. The Archon resumed walking towards his ship, looking around as the Redsun-lit city brightened around them.

The pesky black birds, which they couldn't even shoot at, had changed behavior. Streams of them were visible in the sky, all heading this general direction, though some of the closest flew past, seemingly towards where the landing party had just come from, namely the Bridge of Control, which was out of their sight now.

Some of the birds interrupted their flight to dive bomb the Dorcons. Weapons still did not work. Even the Archon started walking faster.

They reached the ship, boarded, and launched. On the flight up, they started regaining their hearing.

Some minutes later, onboard the flagship, ears still ringing but now usable, the Archon had decided to go to the Control Room rather than the Throne Room, as the rest carried out orders to seed Probes, leave two warships to watch them and this world, and send the rest of his fleet and the trailing splinter fleet towards the Aliarda.

He watched a current view of the Aliarda. The vast nebula and its closest attendant blue stars were still light-years away, but was being scanned by hyperlight sensors and rendered back to visible light. If there were Psychons on the alien planetoid, they had played a marvelous trick by burning the Bridge down behind them, but that would only delay the inevitable. One translight, hyperspatially-bubbled planetoid was still a lumbering beast compared to the Dorcon Fleet's speed.

He was staring at the image, wondering how long it would take to catch up, when he blinked in surprise. Was it...? Were they...?

The Archon shivered. He stood up and approached the image, and watched as the 'Shepherd' stars began moving. Others followed his lead, staring silently. The Shepherds were shifting positions.

"Are the Shepherd stars actually moving towards the Aliarda Veil?" the Consul asked.

"Yes, Consul."

"This is real-time?"

"Only twenty increment delay."

"Strategic retreat, full velocity, directly away," the Archon said, showing the true caution of the wiser Archons.

The young blue giant stars, not as giant as most, but still quite large, paralleling the Alk^inharda for uncounted ages, altered course, went translight, and plunged towards the core of the Aldinark^ Intar Hartrakonzk Daspa -- Deep-Torn Space of the Giants' Fury.

One by one, they hit different points in the huge "sheet" of torn space. It began detonating, brilliantly. The Veil of dozens of light-years was torn almost instantly as hyperspatial forces spread spatial disruptions at incredible speeds, exposing the dark heart of the Alk^inharda's core.

The blue stars tore apart, their huge masses dispersing in fury into the Fury. A titanic "battle" of elemental and hyper-elemental forces exploded, one fury erupting but destroying another Fury. Furies fought, and Furies died, violently.

Before the Dorcon fleet could even flee far, it was done, and in shock, they slowed and assessed the situation behind them.

It was gone. The Aliarda, its Veil, its Shepherds, its Rapids, were all erased, only a faint glow of superheated but fast cooling particles dispersing.

Redsun, which had actually remained out of danger, was no longer red. It was yellow.

"Archon, our Probe ships are not responding."

"Destroyed?"

"Perhaps; but if so, not by what just happened -- something else."

"Consul," the Archon said, leaving the Control Room for the Throne Room.

Once there, the wise Consul commented, "I don't think the Starmovers ever left."

"A deception," the Archon said. "Their legends, seeded maybe by they themselves, while they actually slept in their 'city under glass' or well-hidden in the biome."

"What do we do?" the Consul asked.

"The power to brighten and move stars, and destroy the spatial cancer of the Aliarda is beyond our current stage. We leave this area, but watch it from afar. They are an ancient power, like some others in the galaxy that we leave alone, and hope they keep to themselves like so many others."

"Starmovers."

"I thought it was a stupid name. It was a literal name."

"Then what of the Starmakers?"

"Stars still make themselves, but maybe they can make them too. No one knows where they went. They left no legends of themselves."

"And if the Starmakers still exist and sense the awakening of their ancient enemy?"

"According to all evidence, they kept their war confined the last time."

"And if they don't, and one or the other tries a bigger Aliarda, maybe galaxy sized?"

"We may not be able to do a thing about that other than try leaving this galaxy if we detect that. For now, let's leave them alone, and pursue our needs. Send both fleets around the former volume of the Aliarda, with very wide berth, and let's resume the pursuit of that planetoid. This is a task we can still attend to."

Dorcons were generally cautious and practical. An ancient power seemed to be awakening in dramatic fashion. While impressed, they could do nothing regarding it. However, the Archon's original goal still remained a viable pursuit.

New Winds

The trees rustled in an ancient wind. One direction. Calm. Another direction. Calm. New direction, faster. Calm. The first direction, more quietly. The force field moved back and forth, but it didn't boom inside.

A second force field, nested inside, also expanded and contracted, adding to the swirling, constantly varying wind.

The true sun showed, but brighter, the huge nebula somewhat muted by a partial blue filter pattern on the inside of the force field.

Some coldbirds fought over a piece of food, two birds with eggs in the cool space outside winning more food than an older one, which decided, in its own simple bird manner, to move on to richer territory. Ancient instincts told it there was always an opposite place, on a long journey, while newer instincts told it that it could fly high and look for other patches of giant, pointy, rotted objects like but unlike both trees and rocks, where there would be food in hidden spots that coldbirds could find.

A giant reptile sounded loudly, sounding something like a bird and like something very different. The older coldbird took that moment to start flying to the edge of the green, to begin its journey across the planet, while the younger coldbirds quickly grabbed what food they could and left, as something twenty times taller ran their way, stomping heavily.

Some mammals withdrew into holes or under rocks, others simply moved out of the way.

It was a jungle, literally, the space thick with trees, growing, straining, dying, or rotting. Some would have been familiar to one or both sets of recent visitors to this planet, some would have been familiar if only those people knew their own worlds better, and some would have been recognized from fossils only, and some not at all. It was a typical galactic mix, some common, some unique, and some quite unexpected.

The trees closest to the giant force field, subjected to the strange, strong, swirling wind it projected, tended to have corkscrew like patterns of growth to its branches, and long, thin, but strong leaves that waved about like small pennants, all the leaves waving in near unison to the changing wind patterns. Further away, the wind was less strong, and tended to move back and forth, and trees grew in more typical patterns. Further in, there was a swath was almost always calm, then further in, the pattern reversed. There was a reason.

There was an inner, thinner but still sufficiently-effective force field, about half the diameter -- a quarter the area and an eighth the volume -- of the largest, most energy-needy one.

No birds flew directly over its top, feeling the disturbances of energy conducting from the outer force field and being picked up by the top of the inner force field. There was a desert inside, not a cold desert, but a hot desert, windy yet filled with more than just one species. Cactus forms thrived, similar-looking to those on other worlds, yet some only from convergent needs.

One that might have looked familiar to some, but wasn't quite the exact same species, were non-descript bushes that protected themselves with creosote and grew extremely slowly, and could survive for dozens or even hundreds of centuries. One individual of this species was unique: it had already been centuries old when it had first been transplanted here from a latitude about a third of the way to the south of the rotational equator, before this area at the rotational equator and magnetic pole had been covered up with a force field.

Even the desert had a space carved out of it, for a third force field, itself varying like the larger outer two. It contained a tundra space. Plants used to short growing seasons. Animals, many completely unique to this world, lived here, including what could have been called a flat fish yet breathed air and moved slowly over land, eating plantstuffs while protecting themselves with spikes -- yet being eaten by an equally unique mid-sized mammal that had long tusks it used more like spider fangs, injecting the flat-landers or other prey with digestive enzymes that quickly killed and partially softened the victim. That they were fiercely competitive with their own kind kept their numbers low. The tundra was a jungle of sorts too. The coldbirds would have loved the tundra space, but they could not see into it, only seeing what looked like a gigantic, 'breathing' rock a couple kilometers high, in the middle of several minutes of flight through dry heat that would only be tolerable if they were flying through to somewhere better. That there didn't seem to be had kept coldbird interest non-existent.

Inside that patterned force field, in the middle of the tundra it contained, was a fourth, final, small force field, hiding its secret from all but the most advanced scanners: small structures filtering the energy piped along the magnetic lines from the opposite magnetic pole to this one.

Where light was varied artificially in the tundra space, in this space, it simply didn't exist in this innermost force field. The interior had been dark and lethally cold for ages, and a near vacuum -- all perfect conditions for the ancient hardware maintaining this set of nested force fields.

Machines many millennia old simply worked, maintaining themselves and the environments around them. Few races could even detect the equipment, and even those who could, either had no way of reaching the systems, or had decided trying to destroy pointlessly sentimental 'museums' would itself be an equally pointless waste of effort and energy.

The machines in the cold near-vacuum depended on the energies transmitted from the other side of the planet.

The hours went on. The fury-formed nebula set, followed by the orange-red sun, unseen in the innermost force field except by computer systems. This was hardly new, except that not long after the sun set, something new did happen.

When most of the energy flow ceased, for the first time in ages, the computers did not miss a single computing cycle, but went to contingencies, shutting down the outer force field, which had used the most energy by far. What was still coming from the other side of the planet went to the other three force fields, and the system began using the excess energy it had collected over time it had not counted.

The rock-like appearance of the force field between desert and tundra ceased; but otherwise, the tundra simply continued the way it had, as did the hot desert outside of that, their force fields still intact and behaving mostly as they had, complete with their unavoidable variations that also happened to help impart some wind.

It was different for the jungle further outside. Most of the familiar swirling winds abruptly ceased, except those caused by the inner force field holding the desert. The sun had set along with the nebula that had been scarcely visible anyway, so few creatures noticed, except some that would have been called winged mammals by peoples of some worlds. Their echolocation had always seen, if they got close enough, the outer force field as a solid wall varying in its position by a little.

Now, they did not find it there. Whether they wondered about it or not, was not something other than they knew, but they did see new territory. Outside, over a colder area, they could 'see' insects that had already started wandering out of the jungle, that the mammals could grab on the wing, just like usual.

The air masses started mixing, generating a little wind. Maybe the winged mammals would have wondered if they were going to lose the warmth they were used to, if they had been wont to such thoughts. They only saw food sources moving erratically into a new area.

They 'saw' familiar-shaped birds, but avoided large patches of great numbers of them that would have been roosting but seemed to be awake, perhaps from the loss of the booming sound outside, or perhaps from the warm winds.

Eventually, the nocturnal mammals retreated to the jungle as the sun came up. It was yellow. The coldbirds looked at it, like it was something brand new, yet not. They had seen it as red-orange outside the jungle, and yellow inside, and didn't really care.

The day would get warmer for them then they expected. They noticed other birds outside, ones that were not new to them but were new to the cold desert, which didn't feel as cool as the day went on, and new winds picked up. Coldbirds which went hunting for protein or edible berries or plant growth noticed yet another new thing. They had seen the hot desert, and many had tried flying into it at least once in their life, only to decide there was nothing there for them. There was nothing of real interest to draw them in further -- until today.

Today, in place of what had always looked like a spherical, 'breathing' rock, something new was visible: tundra, true tundra, beautiful tundra.

The coldbirds sought out other coldbirds, chattering excitedly in the sound usually meant to signal there was a plentiful food source all could share in. Great numbers started mobbing in the once-cool desert and in the jungle, working up the nerve together to plunge into the hot desert to reach the tundra they now could see in the distance.

Finally they did, chattering excitedly.

They'd soon find reasons to compete and start driving the old out towards the other pole, and some already raising eggs would have to continue nesting there one more time; but for the moment, if a coldbird could be said to rejoice, then rejoice they did, very noisily, their usual cackles absent, and a more "chatty" but no less loud sound.

The blue nebula and two of the attendant stars rose just as many of the coldbirds headed inward. The nebula's light was still crossing the light years, and would continue streaming in for decades, until one day its destruction would be witnessed, not as an instant single dissolution, but over many, many decades longer, given how the nebula stretched for such immense distances.

M-399 DAB 1920-1930: Prettier Music

Alpha was resuming more typical activity, even as some de-briefing sessions occurred, to review the mission and look for details missed earlier, and draw some conclusions about what they had seen. Most such sessions would take place in coming days, when people were a little more rested up.

So aside from some de-briefing, those who had been on the mission still got some time, a late weekend of sorts, to rest, while most other Alphans had simply continued into another Monday, albeit different as some worked in upper-level rooms to the soft blue light streaming in through the windows. Some could almost imagine it was blue sky -- but it was an effort, as it really didn't look like sky at all. Most just took this 'blue space' as a pleasant change from black space.

It was evening, now, however, and almost as if nothing had happened, most of the Atonal Alphans were back at open practice again, in yet another random room at midlevel, not far from a cafeteria. Such practices not only helped the players, but gave diversion to the listeners, and were already known to have attracted at least a couple new players.

That there were occasional mistakes by the players, or in Jack Bartlett's conducting, only emphasized the repeated point in electronic posts, that they were learning. Alpha was forming its own music conservatory, in a sense. They had much of the music, but needed participants.

The door was open. A few people would come and go, on their way somewhere. Some would linger longer. Some had shown up before the announced start.

Then there was one who would consistently hover at a distance. For not the first time, Jack Bartlett noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Maya, standing outside the room, by the far wall, unobtrusively listening.

She seemed appreciative of the music, and after the last occasion she had done this, he had started wondering about Psychon music. Did they love the artform too? What kinds of music and instruments did they have? Had they had concert halls or performing arts centers?

He didn't look her way, already knowing she'd probably leave the area again. It seemed clear that she felt as if she needed invitations to new occasions. His colleague Joan Conway was in the audience, but her back was to the door. He was pretty sure they got along well.

So he bided his time, not wanting to distract himself too much either.

The song finished. He looked Maya's way. Sure enough, she started moving away. "Maya!" he called out. She froze. Everyone turned her way. "The practice is open for anyone to sit down and listen. If you have time, please feel free to join us."

There was a frown or two in the audience, but Joan was already pointing out an empty seat, and someone -- Kate Bullen he thought (someone's idea of name badges was starting to pay off) -- waved her over as well.

Finally, after a quick glance over the rest of the audience, Maya made a decision, and stepped across the hall and into the room. Much better, he thought.

Midway into the next piece, she looked relaxed as she listened. He'd definitely have to talk with her some time.

Apparently another appreciated the music too, for a black bird alighted in the back of the room, cocked its head towards the music for awhile, then flew out. He hadn't even noticed it fly in. Only a few people noticed it on the way out.

T-400 DAB 0310-0410: Decisions

Maya awoke in the middle of her nap, confused. She stood up, and found herself cold with sweat, yet not remembering a nightmare.

They had been lessening quickly of late, but in the ones that remained some familiar themes had stayed fairly strong.

Vacuum. Volcanic fire. Water storage tank. Empty Alpha. Which one this time? Or something new?

The third had a twinge of recent familiarity, and she followed it, and started recalling....

Dragged away by Stewart and some other, almost faceless Alphans, accusing her of knowing but not helping. Again, no metamorphic defense as they threw her into a water storage tank, the door closed on her, leaving her in the dark, with only one handle at her level, no way to climb out.

At this point, she'd usually wake up with a cry -- rarely a scream anymore -- and settle herself by reminding herself of the positives of the people here.

Yet this time, she had slept on.

After what in the dream felt like hours, the door opened. A voice called out. Tony's. "Maya, are you here?"

"Yes," she called out weakly -- being wet, cold and exhausted.

"Hold on! We're lowering a rope."

"We?"

"Yes, a bunch of us. We traced you here."

The rope arrived, but....

"I can't let go of this handle. I'm too weak and can't swim any more."

"Okay, hold on, I'm jumping in."

He arrived with a splash, swam to her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder, then proceded to help get the rope around her. She was brought out first, to lots of apologies as she was helped to her feet, leaning against the wall....

Maya was very surprised. A nightmare with a happy ending? Had her recent experiences been filtering down to fight her deepest fears? Still, the core issue that she had never truly faced remained, the part that had haunted her almost as much as her father's actions.

It finally drove her to action.

It was the middle of her siesta and Alpha's night. She prepared as if for the day, and after drying her hair, did it up in a form she had used not that long ago, and went to her closet to retrieve her dress, her Psychon dress.

Without hesitation, she had decided that she needed to wear this. She had decided several things almost at once.

Then, holding her commlock closer to her face, she proceeded to call several people, made a request, then headed up for Main Observation.

The blue light of the Shelter'stars streamed through the windows of the otherwise dark and silent space, and she shivered. She had been momentarily entranced by the first view on the screen, but to look more directly at these light sources.... She found nothing soothing about the discordant high-wavelength light sources, so unlike pleasant blue sky. It was, however, part of the reason she had picked this place, even when the blue light mostly retreated as she activated the lights.

She moved simple chairs into the area between the low area and the Commander's former office. She sat in her chair, composed her thoughts, and hoped no one else would come into this room in the meantime. Most of her thoughts had been rolling around in her head for some time, but she assembled all of the most important ones; knowing what she had to say and hoping they would not reject her for it. Maybe they would want to imprison her once she was done, but if that was the price she had to pay for telling them what she must, then so be it.

Finally, a few minutes before the Alphans were scheduled to come here, she was ready, and waited calmly.

"Yes, Maya?" Helena asked groggily into the commlock as she tried to shake the sleep from herself quickly, for Maya only did this for good reason, she knew from a prior experience.

"Doctor Russell, can you please come to Main Observation in fifteen minutes? I have something I wish to say to a few of you."

There were none of the too-frequent apologies Maya gave, about disturbing Helena's sleep or otherwise, just a simple, earnest, and very formal request, and one that made Helena realize this was something major.

Helena immediately accepted the request.

It was the something else that made Helena both nervous and hopeful for the tragic Psychon's state of mind.

She arrived twelve minutes later to find John already waiting outside the door and talking to Tony, Tony looking a little more worried than John, with Alan and Bill arriving moments later from two other directions. Idle speculation was pointless, and since it was a public room, they finally simply entered, at the requested time.

Helena was momentarily surprised to find Maya sitting on a chair in the middle of the two-part space. She was in her Psychon dress, sans the feathers, her hair done up as she had it that fateful day two months ago, her chair facing five other chairs arranged in a semi-circle.

Helena knew immediately Maya was here to speak as a Psychon, not just from her clothes, but from her demeanor as well.

"Thank you," Maya said. "Is there a way of locking these doors?"

The windows all glowed a little with blue light as Commander Koenig took the requested action, while he and the others walked over to the chairs, accepting them without question -- at least not verbal question.

"Four of you were on Psychon," she started with no further preamble, clearly feeling small talk had no place at this moment. "All of you were in some way responsible for the lives that visited Psychon, and suffered the brunt of what my father did there or in its immediate space."

Helena glanced quickly at Tony, and sure enough, he was about to raise an objection. Though one of her own was already arising, she got his attention and gave a sharp shake of her head.

"Thank you, Helena, and thank you, Tony. This is something I must say." Maya then resumed where she had left off.

"Officer Verdeschi, you were responsible for all those still on Moonbase Alpha, and you bore the brunt of the other half of my father's attack on your people."

Tony looked restive, but held his words.

"You five, and some others, have all, in various ways, whether you knew it or not, told me it was not my fault, and though I know that is true to a large degree, in my heart and from your saying so, it does not absolve me completely."

Helena glanced at Tony again, and found more patience.

"There were only two Psychons left on our world. Mentor bore responsibility for his horrifying actions, for the death of more aliens than I can even count. I still love the father I knew, but there is a part of him that I cannot accept, though must recognize it was part of him, that he did evil things trying to save our world yet further corrupting even its dying form into an alien graveyard and slave pit as well, such that the planet could no longer have the clean death it really should have had.

"That was his responsibility, and though I suppose he did accept a little of it in the end, he is no longer here to accept the rest. I know now, better than before, that I cannot accept that part of the blame for him either, though it still haunts me terribly. I love him, but I still cannot believe what he did, and will probably never understand it. In fact, I hope I never entirely do, for if I do, maybe I will be lost too."

She paused, took a deep breath, then forged on. "There were only two Psychons left on our world, and I still bear some responsibility for what happened."

Much to Helena's surprise, Tony's reaction was muted, and simply sympathetic, like he had caught on that Maya felt she needed to do this.

"While Mentor was the one capturing and destroying alien people, I was there too. I was an adult for much of that time. I maybe could have done nothing for his first victims, but I should have seen all the clues, should have recognized the aliens' hostility came, in part at least, from fear and not simple pointless unfriendliness or not being recovered from energy'sphere transport. I should have realized that Mentor's reassurances to me... did not add up. I should have tried to find out more about the nature of Psyche despite my father's words, and statements it was not my time yet. I should have become the voice for the aliens who had none against my father's onslaught."

Much to Helena's surprise, Tony's reaction was further muted, even hard to read, and when Maya looked at him briefly, she promptly looked a little concerned yet resigned, as if she though she thought he was starting to accept that she had blame. She looked away before Tony could react, and immediately resumed.

"For that, I do bear some responsibility, and though I cannot apologize to those who no longer exist, I apologize to you, for what the five of you, and the rest of your people, went through at my father's hands and for my failing to realize the truth and taking action earlier. I know you think, and have told me often, that I have nothing to apologize for, and I accept and understand why you say that, and I know most of the blame is Mentor's; but please accept and understand why I feel I do. Whether you accept the apology itself is still up to you."

There was a sudden, deafening silence as they absorbed her words and waited to see whether she had finished. When she lowered her head, as if to wait for their judgment, that was a clear sign.

Helena responded first. "Maya, I still say it was not your fault, but accept why you are asking, and understand it. Of course I accept your apology."

"As do I," Bill said.

Maya started raising her head back up again.

"Apology accepted," Alan said simply, easily.

After a pause, clearly trying to find the right words, Tony said, "I absolutely accept your apology, Maya." To that, Maya smiled, perhaps feeling uncertain about Tony's increasingly unreadable expression.

That only left John, who had waited, perhaps for the same reason as Tony, not wanting to apologize first and perhaps make it seem others were supposed to take his lead -- or to make Maya wonder if that was the case. "You are a fine young woman, Maya. I still cannot accept you taking on that much blame." Helena saw Maya look a little concerned, but John continued. "But I understand what you are saying, and accept that you feel honor-bound to request that apology. On that basis, I completely accept your apology, and you. I believe I speak on behalf of most Alphans when I say that, and if it comes up with others, and seems appropriate to so so, I will describe the depth and sincerity of your apology."

Maya had calmed, and appeared to be utterly relieved, and perhaps a little surprised.

"Thank you, Commander, that is as I offered it, and it is very generous that you accept it for all it means, and would choose to speak on my behalf to others if you feel the need. I do, then, wish to say something else, if you give me a moment to temporarily transform."

With that, Maya did something symbolic that only she could do, doing a partial transformation -- from the Psychon dress into an Alphan uniform. Her outline only blurred somewhat. When she was done, her clothes and hair arrangement were both different.

The sight still startled everyone, not knowing she could do this.

"It isn't really an Alphan-made uniform, but I thought it was still good to do. I just learned how, yesterday, and cannot hold it for long yet, but long enough to tell you something else."

She looked at John, as if waiting for permission.

"Yes?" he asked.

She looked back across the others again, speaking to all of them.

"I do not know if the Commander told all of you, but he offered me the open Science Officer role. I am surprised and grateful at the opportunity. I have found an unexpected amount of acceptance among people to help me and listen to me here on Alpha, and though I still question whether that will extend to my being an officer, I do wish to try. I wish to contribute, not just because I feel obligated to help after what Mentor did or for your taking me in when a less honorable people could have left me on Psychon to die, or tossed me in lifetime confinement, but because I enjoy the work, and the large degree of acceptance I have found among you, and the challenge of working to find more, and for... myriad other reasons as well. If I do not perform well, for whatever reason, please tell me, and I will strive to improve. If it simply does not work out, for whatever reason, then just reassign me to whatever other role you feel is best. I do accept the position, Commander, and will do my best to fill it."

John stood, followed immediately by everyone else, including Maya after a moment. He stepped up to her, and extended his hand, saying, "Congratulations, and welcome. Your instatement is immediate, from this moment."

She reached out, and they shook hands, both smiling.

Everyone offered their congratulations then as well. Tony then quipped, "You know, you're the only person I know who could instantly correct the fact that you are now officially out of uniform."

Maya smiled immediately, accepting the half-joke, half-serious statement for what it was.

"Red, right?" she asked, beaming. When Tony nodded, there was a slight fuzzing over most of her body still, but mostly around the requisite places of her "uniform," until the color changed from brown to red. She giggled a bit, and Helena was happy to see her so happy after being so solemn for most of the discussion. Metamorph indeed, Helena thought, far from entirely about the physical transformation, but what strides Maya had made emotionally. There was still a long way to go, this temporary happiness aside, Helena knew. Maya's deep sadness, earnestness, and feeling alien would still be there tomorrow, and for the foreseeable future, and probably to some degree for the remainder of her life as an Alphan, which could be the rest of her life. Yet Maya was apparently starting to find again her true core of strength, happiness, fun, and effervescent personality. She had started finding her own path to start walking alongside the Alphans, and Helena could only smile.

Now Helena understood why Maya had found it so utterly alien to speak of her turmoil to Bob Mathias. It was something she, and perhaps all Psychons, felt it was to be shared with the right people, not someone with a job to listen, but to the people who really needed to hear it. That didn't make the human way wrong, or her way alien, just that it was her need.

They soon left Main Observation, Maya reverting to her Psychon dress, and rather than apologizing, joking, "Well, like I told you, temporary, and now I am out of uniform again."

"Nah, you're off duty now," Tony quickly said, and Maya's lovely laughter was just what Helena hoped to hear.

T-400 DAB 0830-1200: With Gratitude

Maya had evidently gotten her friend Janina Conway, Alpha's primary tailor, to make a quick uniform change, for when Maya appeared in Command Center for her duty shift, her uniform already had her new sleeve color. Commander Koenig assumed it was a real change rather than metamorphic, because her shift was far longer than her hour limit, or the mere minutes she had held the partial transform earlier in the morning.

Koenig had already sent around an electronic memo to the rest of Alpha announcing her role change. It had been announced directly in Command Center prior to her arrival, and reactions had been mixed, though seemingly not as much as before, when she had become Science Advisor. It was difficult to tell.

Besides the nearly two months she had been on Alpha, word had probably started getting around about her time on Kaskalon.

Fortunately, after she arrived, some operatives stepped up to congratulate her. Sandra of course did as well.

There would be a brief official ceremony later.

It was soon back to business.

About an hour later, there was an odd report.

"We have dropped out of our hyperspatial bubble," Maya reported.

"What, this far from the star?"

"Perhaps the symmetry of this bubble causes this near'center-placed star to have more hyperspatial influence, but I don't know."

"How far are we?" Tony asked.

"Five light months," Maya answered.

"No hostiles detected. There does not seem to be anything around here."

"Unexpected gravity sources?" the Commander asked.

"None detected," Sandra answered.

A puzzle, one which was discussed sporadically but could not be resolved.

A few routine hours went by, and then Sandra's voice sounded.

"Commander, I am receiving a signal!"

"What does it say?"

"I cannot decode it immediately."

The Data Analyst eventually asked for the Science Officer's assistance, and together, the two had it quickly decoded.

Maya turned to the Commander, her face filled with puzzlement.

"Do you know what it says?"

"Roughly speaking, it says, 'Thank you.' "

Tony jumped in, saying, "Thank you? Thanks for what?"

"What direction did it come from?" John asked.

"From the direction where the Alk^inarda Bridge left us," Sandra stated, to a surprised look by Maya at the closer pronunciation.

"Thank you for riding the Alkinarda Express, have a nice day?" Tony puzzled.

"Was it voice or text?" John asked.

"Text as a pixel map. You can see it here," Maya replied, referring to her small video screen.

"Put it on the Big Screen."

She paused, then pressed a few buttons.

What appeared was alien, but somehow vaguely familiar to John.... "Psychon?"

She looked at him with surprise, saying, "You see the resemblance? Yes, it is, but Ancient Psychon. It is the oldest known form of Psychon still understood. It is actually a very formalized language. I simplified very greatly before, just like modern Psychons did when reading Ancient Psychon. The closest true translation is probably...: 'We present to you our gratitude for your actions of kindness.' "

"That sounds more like the Bridge Builder riddles than anything," Tony commented.

"Yes, I think it is," Maya said.

"Why in Psychon, though?" Sandra asked.

"Perhaps because it was Maya most directly working the controls of the Bridge," John said.

Speculation soon turned to the possibility there might be a habitable planet in the nearest star system, but what might have been a quick space flight to a more technological people was literally years, if not more, to Alpha's modest Eagle fleet. A vague thank you and a nearby-yet-distant star was little to go on. If it was all automated responses, it was possible that even if there had been a habitable world at some time, it could be dead now, or populated with unwelcoming Orcayi. Maybe the message really was just a 'thanks for riding with us' politeness.

They were already essentially at closest approach to the star. It could be a matter of minutes or hours before they were translight again. A faster-flying people could have dealt with it.

It was yet another difficult decision, but unless something further came to light, staying with the Moon was deemed necessary, and there was little argument.

Two hours later, they were back in their hyperspatial bubble, moving away again.

R-402 DAB 1000-2200: Join the Club

It was time. Time for final testing before Level 1 pilot certification. Sandra and Maya were both aware of this.

There were batteries of written and verbal tests, to make sure all the procedures in Level 1 training had sunk in and were sticking, and that each could respond well to questions about situations that arose, procedurally or in flight.

Of course, then came the flight tests. For each trainee, there was one flight with Alan in tow, from pre-flight, through flight, and post-flight. He said nothing, did nothing, touched no controls except what he might as an untrained passenger, even when he sat up front. It was a solo flight without being a solo flight.

Each woman made all the calls, all the requests. The "missions" had already been given to them, short notice, and they had to prepare.

These were not complicated missions -- those would be for Level 2 training and beyond.

Level 1 pilots, though they could be solo astronauts, were not meant to be fully autonomous, as they would usually be in contact with others to direct them, and that was the case on these flights as well. Level 1 training was meant to get recruits into an Eagle, flying all the basics, relatively quickly. It had been little more than a month of training, and it was time to put it all to use.

With each trainee, there were small canned "emergencies" already set up to be triggered during flight. There was a minor item to be found in the Walkaround. There would be a landing during which they would have to replace a circuit board. There were thus simple hardware "flaws" to deal with in Level 1 flight, that any pilot, even if not good with electronics, would have to deal with.

Each woman took separate flights on the same day, one after the other, immediately, so that there was no chance of trainees comparing notes.

Alan watched with pride as each found the pre-flight "mistake" that had been left by Technical, and interacted with maintenance personnel in a professional manner. Each went through the checklists, calmly requested from Eagle Nest an elevator lift from the hangar. Each was given the order to take off from Command Center, and did so smoothly. They went through maneuvers away from Alpha, flying the courses required of them, each in their very different way, but with strong results. The "emergencies" were dealt with professionally. The landing for "repair" went smoothly. Two more Eagles joined up for one of the more recent drills: formation flying. Sandra had slight nervousness, but then so did many after only a few weeks of that. The formation fell away, and each flew into space, first to one orbit, then shifting to another. Maya's slight tendency at over-aggressive maneuvers still showed through from time to time, and did again on this one, but it was minor, less than some of the hot-doggers he knew.

Each trainee displayed some quirks, borderline mistakes, but they were well within margins, and performing average or better for this test. Sandra remained tentative occasionally. He couldn't train all of this out of anyone, especially those not going through military flight training at an earlier age.

One "emergency" got Sandra a little panicky, briefly. One "emergency" call heavy in lingo threw Maya a little.

For two trainees who flew in very different ways under the surface, they were performing remarkably evenly overall and compared to each other, close to the comfortable "center" that Alan preferred to see, neither too tentative nor too aggressive.

Landing and post-flight had similar results. Alan was pleased with both. De-briefing proceeded, and neither had trouble listing their strengths and weaknesses during the flight, but as always, Alan had a few more points on each side.

Hours later, it started again, but this time each was in solo flight. They had practiced solo a few times, but had to test it as well. The results were again, similar.

They were ready to be certified as pilots. Of course, it wasn't a simple handshake and handing of a certificate.

"The Eagle Aerie Club?" Maya asked, with raised eyebrows.

"Yep, certification ceremony and celebration. All one thing."

Sandra gave a dubious look in her own way. It was a new decision, but perhaps even Sandra didn't know it had not been done for the two women, but on the occasion of the last certification as well. It was another mild change on Alpha, which made sense, somehow. That these two new pilots were more than a little shy in differing ways did make the combined event a good thing; they couldn't bypass the celebration.

The Commander attended alongside Alan, both presenting their congratulations during the uniform event. Both got their pilot/astronaut wings, handshakes from Captain Carter and Commander Koenig.

The capacity of the Eagle Aerie Club was intentionally below the numbers of astronauts, again to prevent needless risk putting too much expertise in one spot at one time. That this had to be done with Command staff on some occasions was sometimes a necessary risk, and that it simply happened at some times was unavoidable, but for a planned ceremony/celebration, it was sensible to avoid it. Helena was present as another pilot and the only other female among them -- though she had rarely gone there since she had become a pilot. However, given all this, Tony was in Command Center, watching on camera. His presence would have meant all the current officers in one room for a ceremony and party.

After the speeches and awarding and handshakes were over, the party started. A uniform party, but a celebration nonetheless.

Most of the pilots remained, and the atmosphere lightened up. Far from having nothing to talk about with either woman, there was plenty.

Some of the men wanted to compare their previous experience in training -- on Alpha or Earth -- with the women's, and the latter started getting interested in hearing the former. Also, Maya's voice and face had been directing some of them in Hauls at both Kaskalon and around the Moon as well, so there was another topic. Sandra had been the voice and face at the other end on a lot of prior missions as well. So there was plenty to talk about.

That each woman also got some looks as well was not difficult for most observers to notice, but Sandra seemed to politely ignore the looks, and Maya avoided them, still uncomfortable with anything resembling stares. Eventually those faded to a large degree.

Small glasses of drinks eventually got passed around. Maya eyed hers dubiously, and asked in a hesitant voice, "Is this Tony's beer?" The way she looked at the drink and asked the question brought instant laughter to the room, heard outside of it as well.

It seemed Maya and Sandra might just fit in the Eagle Aerie Club, if either wanted to give it a chance.

R-402 DAB 2230-2400: Men of Honor

Mentor had referred to the Alphans as "Men of Honor." She had not known her father's own honor had been in tatters long before that day, but he had been right about the Alphans. They were a people of honor. Despite the suspicions about her, the resistance from some, impoliteness, stares she could not interpret, and an assault against her, she still recalled how she could be in a cell, or abandoned on Psychon and now just molecules floating about Psyoliyask.

She still didn't know what her future would entail.

She suspected she would always hold out hope for rejoining Psychons, but she had no expectation of such. On a strangely traveling Moon, among people with modest, essentially primitive technology, she had no means of reaching out.

The Galaxy was gigantic; the Moon but a mote.

She sat on her bed, thinking over recent events. They could have stuck her in a lab, given her quarters and orders, and virtually ignored her. It would have been life and challenge. The Commander had promised that she would have a place, but they had really given her a place in many more ways than she had expected. She could have ended up among far worse aliens. She was hard-pressed to think of anyone better she could have ended up with.

Maya smiled. She was an officer now. She was an Alphan pilot. She was an Alphan. On the outskirts in many ways socially and otherwise, but not beyond the edge. She was among them, and most were kind.

She took her siesta, late, due to the party. For the first time, rather than a nightmare or no memory of dreaming, she would awake with a pleasant dream, not of Psychon, but of Alpha.

It was starting to feel like a home.

F-403 DAB 0750-0800: Settlers

John was surprised to see Maya standing in Conference Room CC, staring at the board. He noticed there was a change, and realized instantly it was an addition. She had even made up a title for it, him assuming that like the others, it did not have a title, and her apparently assuming that Alphans preferred one.

"I could have saved some bother regarding Operation Exodus considerations, if I had remembered this before," Maya stated.

"We did find out why settlers do not linger, as you thought you had heard. Salted land turned to sand. Static slowly intensifying. No one could survive there as technologists or agrarians."

"No. I missed that. I could have gotten us in serious trouble."

"For whatever reason you remembered the information, even if not this poem, you did state beforehand that people don't linger, or settle, on Kaskalon. That was enough to make me more wary and time-sensitive, even if I wasn't sure there was reason."

"I am glad you were."

"Maya, don't worry about being perfect. Try your best. Do your best. Tell me when you realize you make mistakes, but don't agonize over them. You did good, and around here, that always counts for a lot."

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

John stared at the board Maya had drawn and written on, her diagram and recalled poems having filled it with one map of the mission, while Maya stared at the second board, that John had written on with Flights and other mission planning that served as the second map of the mission.

His eyes jumped from poem to poem, in their natural progression, and could now read so much of what they had seen. Yet there were still slippery lines that did not seem to match any Alphan experience. Maybe further de-briefings and time would reveal more.

He turned to Maya, who was still looking at the second board. "Come," he said, touching her shoulder briefly, "Let's see what's going on in Command Center."

She smiled again, and John shut off the lights, feeling like this chapter was being closed.

F-403 DAB 0810-0820: Edge of Shelter Space

Dr. Helena Russell was about to return from making a log entry. She had loved the blue glow from all around, inside the dense shell of blue stars, and stated she had wanted to mention it, and the days-long, peaceful interlude they had enjoyed.

Ahead was a gap, fairly wide, in the large shell of semi-cocooned stars. These stars were more cocooned within their shell of a diffuse nebula, so any reasonable gap was safe enough. Alpha was soon to turn on their main shield, as a precaution, to take any radiation they might receive getting close. It would take hours to get through the gap, at least.

It was 403 Days After Breakaway, and those present waited, curious, the Big Screen showing the section of the cluster's "wall" ahead of them, with the gap dead center. The screen glowed blue from what it was showing, the light scattering from the stars off minor dust clouds all about this cluster, making its glow so diffused.

What happened next was not expected. Abruptly, all the blue vanished. The stars vanished, replaced by a new set of distant stars, one which Maya, after running some wide-angle camera views, almost immediately reported as unfamiliar to her. They were somewhere new, elsewhere in presumably the same galaxy.

There had been no Bridge, just something even more unusual at the boundary of the presumed Shelter Space. The Moon was, nonetheless, still in its vast hyperspatial buttle, and it wasn't long before they discovered something -- lots of small orange-red missiles now within the Moon's bubble.

The Red Alert alarm rang all about Alpha.

As one threat materialized above Alpha, something else slowly awoke below them. Once disturbed briefly some time before, then again by the journey through the Bridge, later by a signal followed shortly by another space shift, it began activating various slowly-reawakening processes, a very gradual rumbling to eventual activity....

DCS 7418,236;276-909: Lost

The Archon was not pleased. After days of circling around the former location of the Aliarda, they had arrived in the typical zone of the other end of the Bridge. It had been an unstable Bridge at this end, appearing anywhere within a light-year diameter area. Across that many light-years, that didn't seem like a lot, but it did prevent someone from simply setting up permanently at a fixed Bridge End and interfering in any way with those arrivals through the Bridge. However, the Dorcons had strong scanners, and had known the path and speed of the grey planetoid before the Bridge, and had a range a few light-years in diameter to scan. They turned up nothing.

"Where is it, Sub-Consul?"

"Maybe the one poem is the clue."

"Shelter Space?"

The Dorcons stopped where they were for awhile, allowing Fleet 1.2 to catch up with 1.1 and re-merge as Fleet 1. The Archon had elevated Pre-Consul Varda to Sub-Consul at the time of the split, and now, Varda and Syric settled in the Throne Room to talk.

Reenon, Psychon's former Moon, traveling in a small hyperspatial bubble, had been found, just short of reaching the space of the Atsindae Alcove. It had a rather huge new crater, but elsewhere, only a few broken structures remained. All of the technology had been removed at some point before, and no Psychons remained. Even the meager plant and animal life, which had survived in low atmosphere, had died and frozen, away from a sun.

Yet Varda had, on the way there and back, ordered detailed observations of this space rarely plied by Dorcons, so far out of their current empire, and that and her confident tone impressed the Archon further.

They talked about the planetoid and its apparent disappearance, and the possibility that they were now safe in some mysterious Shelter Space.

"Maybe," Sub-Consul Varda stated. "But may I suggest an alternative hypothesis?"

"Proceed."

"The Starmovers apparently created the legends as partially deceptive. The Shelter Space poem suggested they fled to Shelter Space, yet they've apparently been sleeping hidden on the Bridge World all this time."

"You are suggesting Shelter Space does not exist? Then where is the planetoid?"

"Races have been sending nothing more than spaceships through the Bridge for millennia, and there always has been some variation on where the other Bridge End appears. Perhaps this planetoid's size, and the fact it was destroying the Bridge as it went, caused a kind of surge that pushed the Bridge End out much further than usual."

The Archon paused, and said, "I find that believable." He then changed the topic somewhat. "I must return to Dorca. This fleet will be split again, at least for awhile. Keep the splinter fleet, with you in oversight, in space for now, to start hunting for word of this planetoid, or any other Psychons who left earlier. Our searchers should move quietly, observing current strategic goals regarding any races encountered, offering words of potential future friendship and such, while assessing other potentials as well. Usual protocol."

"If the planetoid is back to typical translight travel, there will be time dilation involved."

"Which way?"

"We will age faster than those on the planetoid."

"Then we had better find other Psychons. But look for the planetoid as well. Even if it takes a lifetime to track any of them down, we must do it."

"Of course, Archon."

Yes, this one's career might be worth following. If she proved herself, maybe he'd recall her to Dorca and make her a full Consul. His own was aging, and without a transplant, would eventually need replacement. The way Varda spoke, thought, and carried herself was a welcome surprise to him.

Epilogue

A father and daughter traveled across one of the oldest bridges in the galaxy, in a vehicle that looked not terribly unlike what some of the second-last alien visitors to the planet would have called an automobile, but glided above the road, not from the bridge being encrusted by a force field, but a force field around the vehicle, part of it completely frictionless, and parts of it rotating. The shell could have been a force field too, but there needed to be a shell to hold the force field generators for something that had independent long-distance movement. Perhaps that shell belied a form that, just maybe, had evolved from something very like an automobile, many technological ages ago, or perhaps it was just convergent design shape from similar needs to transport a few people and supplies from one point to another.

The bridge had existed for twenty thousand years before it had been converted to a giant energy collector and encrusted by a force field. It was the last of a long line of bridges which used to span the river before continued force field technology advancements had made river crossings simple and routine, with the bridge being used mostly for sentimental reasons.

The 'car' was only two decades old. Others were older, yet all had been built anew. No whole vehicles had been left in the city during its long sleep, but the knowledge to rebuild them had slept in computer systems. Same for the nearly-spherical, mid-sized spaceship which they watched launch itself into the dusky sky.

The car slowed to a stop, and its force field shed all its layers at a pace that let it settle quickly yet gently to the ground. The two occupants were at 'their' building. It wasn't where they lived, but one they were responsible for. They were the general caretakers of this building. The computers inside took care of many of the details, and the two were not true maintenance experts, but they were responsible for some simple monitoring actions now that the city had been exposed to the atmosphere for centuries now.

There were, compared to the immense capacity of the city, very few of the people, so almost every person or family was responsible for a building. In some cases, those people lived in the same building, if it was set up for such; but in many cases, people preferred to cluster somewhat more together, in small communities scattered throughout the city, preferring not to concentrate themselves too much, even though their technology was powerful. They knew their numbers were still going to be recovering for some time.

The father was tall and lanky, and generally speaking, some would have called him, his daughter, and her mother humanoid, but a somewhat more distant branch, each with a wider face and heavier features that seemed something of a mismatch for their tall yet fairly strong body, though in many other ways, their general shapes and differences between adult and child, female and male, were quite familiar.

The daughter, though still young, would have been a short adult to many other humanoid races or species. They moved through some of the lower levels. Computers that had been quiescent for uncounted time were still running smoothly overall, though not without an occasional replacement component here or there.

They got in an elevator, and directed it to go slowly, this not being a meticulous inspection today but the two simply glancing about as the elevator slowly climbed.

They got out of the elevator at the halfway point and chose to walk up stairs the rest of the way, also doing a simple look-about as they climbed. The central core of the building was open from top to bottom -- not to a wide degree, but enough that if a lot of people were in the building, they would have felt a more social environment, seeing people at other levels above and below. This was a mixed-use building, with uses ranging from residential to heavy 'distribution' to light manufacturing. It could have been a small city onto itself, but no one lived here or used it yet. Eventually, it would see permanent daily activity again, though maybe not for millennia.

They eventually reached the roof. It was full night now, and the stars shown brightly, with only some buildings lit, only to a moderate degree, and with lights that were motion sensitive and properly directed to not pointlessly waste the light or further wash out the sky -- even though this people could certainly had the power systems to light the whole city if they wanted.

Every year on a particular day, they lit up everything in the city, even wastefully, as an exaggerated way of reminding all of themselves of one of their long-term goals -- filling the city again. Today was not such a day, and scarcely any lights spoiled their view up through the sky and of space.

For awhile, they just stared, but eventually, the daughter pointed to a moving dot of light in night and generated a thought in such a way her father could 'hear' it:

I see those once and awhile.
What are they?
I have not seen an explanation.

Our new moons.

New? his daughter asked.

Not there before we Slept.
That they are there now,
and that we are awake,
are for the same reason.

I hear about our Sleep,
but for some reason of mine,
I do not think it is the
same simple word we use every day.

The father looked at the daughter, thinking, in unshared thoughts, whether she was ready. Her thoughts were still somewhat disorganized, and she sometimes broke the flow of others' thoughts, but she was maturing. She was ready to hear new history.

It was not that kind of sleep at all.
We were at war with another people,
our equal in power, different in nature.
Our fight created a tear across space.
They tried to create stars near us.
We moved them--

They created stars?
I thought dust clouds--

Stars are created naturally; however...
they learned a secret, us a different one.
Planets destroyed, space torn wide,
we moved stars to hold the tear.
Whole races died around us,
our enemy didn't care,
but we noticed,
at last.

We went into suspended animation?

Such would have been detected.
Genetic information stored on
computers would have been found.
Stored elsewhere, would have decayed,
over the many ages we sought to hide.

Where did our people sleep, then?

As fragments of inert genes,
inserted into the genetic code of
birds of the cold rotational poles.

He paused for a moment, then continued.

They were denied their usual habitat,
to adapt to a new yet similar pattern,
of breeding in cool air and eventually,
from either competition or old age,
to journey from pole to pole, but...
between magnetic, not rotational,
allowing some to always be present,
in this city, for the Awakening day.

Her expression grew contemplative, absorbing the startling information with grace, and eventually asking a few simple yet intelligent new questions.

Then from where did our -- there --
knowledge of all of our past come?

Our computers held our people's
knowledge amassed from ages,
to be returned to us in time.

What happened to the older people?

They fought on, but stopped having children.
They let their fleets be whittled to nothing,
while others worked to preserve the past,
of our planet's civilization and of life,
at the warm magnetic poles forever.
We seeded poems with the Word People,
for them to release at many long intervals,
with numerous words of history and flight.

His daughter looked out into space, absorbing the new information. She was fourth-generation born. The first new generation, after their genetic code had been extracted from the coldbirds, had been provided biomolecular machinery in the form of a coldbird ovum, turned into a zygote, long enough for the new cell to divide and become a blastocyst. By then, suitable mammals could be captured and transported via small force fields, across the planet, to act as surrogate wombs for a time, until a transfer to a fully-artificial system was required to complete that process.

Then those first new 'children' had been raised by figures formed of force fields, based on parenting information deposited into heuristics ages ago, and teaching the scientific and cultural knowledge stored there. It was an imperfect solution that had perhaps altered their society. These 'children' had matured and started having children of their own, by conventional means.

Centuries had passed, and the people had embraced their task of rebuilding their long-sleeping planet. The rotting cities had been cleared, except for one left as a reminder. The planet had warmed, and the ice at the rotational poles had mostly melted, re-forming more oceans, lakes, and rivers from an enhanced water cycle. A planet-wide molecular filter had eliminated the poisons from the soil. The biosphere had started spilling its life into the open, and it was spreading.

Eemochawren, the preserved city, was still almost quiet, their numbers low but building. Many tens of thousands of birds had been living their uncounted generations before their people's re-awakening. They lived and bred on, now released of the extra genetic burden that had been buried in their sturdy code, by computers whose mere presence had been noticed but seemed pointless with no actual genetic code stored in them. Computers saving codes would have been noticed, just as the ones holding knowledge had been. Their enemy had been out to destroy people, not computers from which were missing the essence of the people.

The father starting sending more thoughts out that his daughter could catch.

Our enemy thought most of us killed,
and the rest gone to a Shelter Space,
and our remaining power concentrated,
into what to them would seem pointless:
monuments to the lost past of this world.
We had poisoned the rest of the world also.
They left, and one last deception crashed,
after long, separately-timed journies....

What?

Sturdy ships, built to look like primitive weapons,
into which we drew from our sun some of its energy.
They sat, looking like other races attempted to
destroy what little of our world remained.
Our sun's essence partially bottled,
to return when the time came.

Would such an important countdown have been detected?

You learn quickly, my daughter.
We left ourselves a single trigger,
but one we could not trip ourselves.
We needed help; it eventually came.

Onto a patterned force field appeared an image of a grey planetoid.

They took several pieces from our world,
but they gave several pieces of their world.

They?

Another image appeared, of a chamber with four short and somewhat narrow-faced people in it, one at the console. The father briefly pointed to the one at the console, and continued 'speaking.'

A Psychon. They have changed.
Had to change. Closest survivors
of the war which killed so many.
Their world died shortly before
ours was awakened; she gave
the key to these far travelers,
with whom she had joined.

Who are the others?

We have asked, and the information reverberates,
and some have transmitted poems of them already.
They are a new people, now of two worlds joined.
When they came through our system and Bridge,
they scarcely know what they have before them.
They did not see the carriage and watcher.
Something had not awoken within yet.
Why it was out here, we do not know.

I do not understand.

The father now took his turn looking up into space, scratching at one of the feathers in his scalp, and resisting the mild urge to flap his arms uselessly. It seemed the Ancestors had not understood genetic code as well as they thought they had. They knew it was full of mysteries, but thought they could keep the intron fragments separate and completely inert. The birds bred fast, however, genes could mutate, and even aside from that, could play tricks on even the best genetic students -- and everyone was merely a student it seemed. A few bits of the bird code had slipped among the introns. Maybe bits of their own had slipped into the birds'.

The adult's permanent mate, mother of the girl, was on the opposite side of the planet. Jungle was spreading from the site of the biosphere, its outer shield having ceased the moment the Awakening began. Temperatures on the planet had mostly stabilized, except closer to the rotational poles. The rotational equator was no place for the desert and tundra protected in two of the remaining force field layers. The desert biome was currently having half of it removed, to transplant to the north, to be nutured in one of the bands where a hot meteorological desert had taken hold but was still lacking desert life except for a few of the more adaptable jungle creatures that had tried getting a foothold at the edge of the new niche. The remaining half of the desert life inside its force field would be allowed to re-fill the emptied half, and by this method, new desert biomes would be established elsewhere on the world, away from the remaining biosphere, once every century -- or to re-attempt desert life if it failed to take hold in one place.

The force field further inside, the tundra, would be transplanted once the still somewhat chaotic regions not far from the rotational poles calmed a little more. They wanted to get all of this restoration right, but felt special gratitude, in a way, towards one species in the innermost life-bearing biosphere.

The birds of the cold rotational poles had been borrowed for an unique purpose. Now free of their genetic burden, the birds continued a slightly-modified version of an old pattern, now nesting permanently in the tundra, finding food there or flying across the desert layer to reach the expanding jungle, and as competition or age drove them out, flying to the other magnetic pole, where food was still produced for them in the ancient city. One day, they would be returned to high latitudes near the rotational poles, and would hopefully resume their older pattern of flying from cold pole to cold pole. They were hardy animals, but some care was still needed.

Those force fields would still be needed for a millennium or more. So the true innermost force field, holding a spherical space at near absolute zero and near vacuum to suit the powerful shield regulators, would be on duty for some further millennia.

When the girl's father had failed to share any thoughts for awhile, nor clarify her confusion over the last of his prior thoughts, she knew it was time to change the subject slightly. So she asked a question.

Have we had any contact with them since?

He tilted his head side to side in the 'I don't know' manner, but behind his thought wall, considered the fact he probably could not find out, either. Most information was shared across the society, equally among adults and children sufficiently mature for the data, when asked or searched for. However, the internal politics of their people (whose own, mostly unshared race name of Eemsilida would translate as the Water Crossers) could be complicated, even more over time as their society rebuilt. Furthermore, he was not a Strategist.

He felt directed thoughts impinge on his mental wall, from the outside, and caught them before they faded -- his daughter asking another question. This one was, in its way, perhaps the most perceptive, poetic, and deepest of all.

So the trigger was the small grey world?
We had to wait for something like this,
to awaken us from our long Sleep?

We left it up to chance,
or the Universe itself,
to decide whether to
bring us back....

They were a stealthy people, yet widely known. They went by many names given by others: The Language Traders, the Khorask, Ek*Taldel, Word Barterers, Word People, sometimes even Word Stealers -- among other names as well. They kept their own source words -- even their own name for themselves -- to themselves.

A private yet public race, they hid their faces with other faces or even sent robotic emissaries, and hid their ships by stealth, improved many ages ago in a bargain with the StarMovers. By agreement, the Khorask had spread the StarMover poetry slowly, over time.

The Khorask were among the furthest fliers of anyone, yet in their travels, few races were capable of detecting them. The richness of their language libraries, and the premium bartering prices they could often demand, were assured by being able to gather as many words and meanings as possible. Even as incomplete as each array thread was, they were still valued, and it was by this that the Khorask lived.

When one ship detected what they at first thought were new words, but soon realized were ancient words long unheard in any significant quantity, they approached the source.

They knew the words. The StarMover language, coming from the direction of the World of Bridges.

The Khorask did not land, or go into orbit, pass the outermost gas giant planet, or enter the star system at all.

They did not dare. The Khorask had had no choice in the bargain ages ago, and had been happy the StarMovers had left to Shelter Space.

They knew they were being detected. They were being watched. So they marveled at the disappearance of the Aldinark^ Intar Hartrakonzk Daspa, worried about the return of the StarMovers and even moreso about whether their StarMaker enemy knew of this, then left as quietly as they could, but knowing that if the StarMovers wanted to find them, they could.

Yet they picked up on some StarMover chatter. Whether the chatter was made for the "benefit" of the Khorask, they could not be sure, but among it, one piece stood out, though it made less sense than the ancient StarMover poems.

They call themselves Alphans,
but they scarcely know themselves,
agents of mutation and metamorphosis,
wandering the galaxies of the universe.

They know not what they have,
but one day there will be an awakening,
links forged, bridges re-built, fragments sheared,
anchorages constructed, a new civilization seeded.

Others have recognized them,
as we have discovered,
and we thank them.

[End of fourth part -- and of Bridge Two.
This is "followed" by "The Exiles" episode.
The next fan fiction (short) story follows
some days after that: "Whose Orders?"]